


The Window

by honeyMellon



Category: Bleach
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyMellon/pseuds/honeyMellon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo was an ordinary high school student with an ordinary life. Then, his new neighbors moved in, and Ichigo suddenly found himself looking out from his window more often than he should. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The figure under the covers stirred and groaned. It wasn't working; the covers weren't thick enough to block out the sounds of banging doors and yells coming from next door. Annoyed but too lazy to get up, Ichigo curled up in a ball and slapped his pillow over his ears. But soon it became too stuffy, and with a gasp he burst out from the covers. He took a few much-needed breaths of fresh air and mentally cursed his new neighbors again.

The house next to his had been empty for a few months now, and it looked like the new owners had arrived. At seven thirty in the fucking morning, on a fucking Saturday.

With a grunt, Ichigo flung open his curtains and glowered at the house next door. He didn't have a direct view of the street, but he could hear the sounds as clearly as though they were right under his window.

Seeing that he was already up, he decided that he might as well wash up and begin his day. Didn't mean he couldn't grumble and curse as he went through his routine, though.

He went down to the kitchen and grabbed himself a bowl of cereal. To his chagrin, he found four nearly-empty boxes of cereal, ranging from the standard plain Kellogg's corn flakes to the fancier Honey Bunches of Oats. Muttering under his breath, he settled for a bowl of mixed cereal. At least the milk wasn't expired.

"Ichi-nii! You're early!" His sister's voice rang from the stairs. Yuzu bounced into the kitchen with a look of surprise on her face.

Ichigo turned around in surprise, nearly knocking over his bowl in the process. "Hey," he said. "You're early too."

Yuzu gave him a weird look. "I'm always up around this time, Ichi-nii."

"Oh." Ichigo felt sheepish. He wouldn't know, given that he usually didn't get up till much later on weekends. He watched his sister navigate through the kitchen with familiar ease, opening drawers and cupboards, slowly filling up the countertop with pans, flour, baking scale, and stuff that Ichigo couldn't name.

"What are you doing?" he asked, speaking through a mouthful of cereal.

Yuzu flashed him one of her bright, motherly smile. "Cookies! I'm baking cookies to welcome our new neighbor," she said, peeking into the fridge to get milk and butter.

Ichigo scowled. Yeah, the new neighbor who woke him up at seven fucking thirty in the morning. It was just like Yuzu, though. She was always good with people, and had enough warmth for all of them combined. Ichigo wasn't exactly anti-social, but he wasn't the type who went out of his way to be nice to strangers either. Yuzu's twin sister, Karin, was just like him. And his dad was too busy with his clinic to pay attention to anything else.

"Okay," he said. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm doing fine," Yuzu replied, turning back to give him another smile.

Ichigo chuckled. Her smile practically said _no thanks, you'll only get in my way_. He wasn't the last offended, because he knew she was right. He excelled at a lot of things, but cooking or anything remotely related to the kitchen was not one of them.

He finished his breakfast and brought his bowl to the sink. Yuzu shooed him away, saying that she would wash everything when she was done with the cookies. With nothing else to do, he planted himself on the sofa in the living room and began to channel surf.

After a while, though, his attention turned to the movers next door. From the sounds of it, they were almost done. He walked to the window and looked out.

A large white truck was parked right in front of the house. A man with cornrowed hair was shaking hands with the driver while several other men were climbing into the truck.

"Huh," Ichigo said to nobody in particular. So that was their new neighbor. The guy looked _huge_ ; Ichigo figured the man's bicep was at least twice the size of his. His eyes searched the area around the house for other members of the household; surely the man wasn't going to live alone in such a big house, was he?

He was about to give up and turn around when he caught a flash of color at the corner of his eyes.

Bright, fiery red. His eyes widened in surprise as a younger man jogged out from the house and went up to the man. Wow. And he thought _his_ orange hair was eye-catching enough. The guy's hair was an obnoxious shade of crimson, pulled back into a high ponytail that bobbed in sync with his strides.

The hair wasn't the only thing that stood out; the redhead was wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck, a rather odd choice for today's weather. Ichigo wondered if the guy was melting underneath all that fabric. He watched the two men chat for a little bit, then, deciding that he'd been nosy enough, Ichigo went back up to his room. Might as well take a stab at his homework while he still had the energy for it.

He was in the middle of a brain-wrecking calculus problem when soft knocking interrupted his thoughts. The knocks were followed by Yuzu's soft voice. "Ichi-nii! Can you help me with something?"

Ichigo was greeted by a full plate of cookies when he opened the door. "Eh?" He raised his eyebrows inquiringly, then he couldn't help laughing at the sight of the light dusting of flour on his sister's nose.

"I was going to take these over..." Yuzu said, blushing slightly in embarrassment. "But...I'm a little scared of the big man."

"The big man?" Ichigo echoed, then he remembered the neighbor he saw in the morning. He balked as he understood Yuzu's unspoken request. Kurosaki Ichigo—cool, macho Ichigo—walking to his neighbors with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies; unacceptable.

Yuzu looked expectantly at her brother with those pretty brown eyes of hers, and Ichigo knew he was trapped.

"Fine." Ichigo sighed and took the plate from Yuzu's hands. He stepped out into the hallway and followed Yuzu downstairs, dragging his feet reluctantly.

The walk over to the house next door was agonizing. Yuzu stood on the porch and waved at Ichigo encouragingly, and he had no choice but to march on. He rang the doorbell, and then waited in front of the large wooden door, shifting his weight from left to right as he waited for his new neighbors to answer the door.

The door remained closed for a whole minute, and Ichigo looked over to Yuzu, who gestured for him to knock again. Rolling his eyes, he sighed and raised his arm to knock, his face still turned towards his sister. He saw Yuzu's hands fly to her mouth as her eyes widened, and was just wondering what could be the matter when his knuckles connected with something soft.

Shocked, he whipped his head around and immediately wished he could disappear into the ground. His very large, very intimidating-looking neighbor was at the door, Ichigo's fist still frozen in place on the man's chest.

"Hello," the man said with a look of amusement.

Ichigo snapped to his senses and quickly withdrew his hand. Face burning in embarrassment, he thrust the plate of cookies towards the man and said stiffly, "Welcome to the neighborhood."

The man accepted the plate. "And who might you be?" he asked, his deep voice surprisingly warm for someone who looked so tough.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," Ichigo said. He shoved a hand into his jeans pocket and rubbed the back of his neck with the other, feeling absolutely horrified at his earlier gaffe. "I'm your next door neighbor."

"Ah, thank you Kurosaki-san, I'm Tsukabishi Tessai," the man said. He sounded like he was smiling, but given that his mouth was almost completely hidden behind an impressive but well-groomed moustache, Ichigo couldn't really tell. "Would you like to come in?"

Ichigo shook his head vigorously. "Thanks, but ah...maybe next time."

Tessai looked disappointed. "No problem, when we're settled down I'll be sure to invite you and your family over," he said. "I may not look it, but I'm a pretty good cook." Then, chuckling, he added, "At least, my son thinks so."

Not one who excelled at making small talk, Ichigo was frantically thinking how to get out of the situation when a voice called out from inside the house, "Who're you talking to, dad?"

"Our new neighbor!" Tessai hollered back.

Ichigo groaned inwardly, but he couldn't help staring when the red-haired young man he'd seen earlier appeared behind his father. Close-up, his hair looked even brighter. Between the turtleneck shirt and the white bandana that completely covered his forehead, the only exposed skin on him was his clean-shaven face, ears, and hands. Ichigo figured that he was a couple of years older than he was.

"Renji, Ichigo," Tessai offered. "Ichigo, Renji."

The redhead nodded curtly at Ichigo before telling his father that one of their boxes was missing. Secretly grateful for the opening, Ichigo bid them a hasty farewell and left.

* * *

The rest of the day flew by with a combination of homework and video games. By the time Ichigo dragged himself back to his room after dinner, he was so tired that a nine o'clock bedtime actually sounded appealing.

Sweeping his books into a stack, he was arranging them in his backpack when he caught a flash of red through his window. Curious, he peered out and found himself staring into one of the rooms of the house next door.

Renji, if he remembered the name correctly.

The redhead was carrying several boxes into the room, still clad in the same stuffy-looking clothes.

One bad thing about the design of this community was the distance between the houses—Ichigo had a perfect view of Renji's room, which was the mirror image of his. He supposed the guy also had a good view of his room, but, even though his body was angled towards the window, it didn't look like Renji was interested in looking out from his window.

Instead, his hands reached up and pulled off his hair tie, freeing his ponytail. Ichigo was surprised to see how long his neighbor's hair was; it came down past his shoulders, standing out starkly against the dull color of his top. The messy red strands covered most of his face, blocking his features from view.

Then, to Ichigo's horror, he began to strip.

With a quick tug, the grey turtleneck shirt was pulled over his head, exposing a flat, toned torso. Ichigo swallowed; this should be his cue to turn around and give the guy his privacy, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

Because that torso was covered in black jagged tattoos. And they were not just _any_ tattoos; these were wild, fierce, and extended from his chest all the way down to his abdomen almost to his hips. They decorated his biceps as well, sharp and ragged on his lightly tanned skin.

As Ichigo watched, Renji twisted his body, stretching his back and arms, and then he began to unbuckle his jeans. This time, Ichigo forced himself to turn away. All of a sudden the absurd choice of clothing made sense—Renji was obviously hiding his tattoos.

Still dazed from the unexpected sight, Ichigo rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms and shook his head, as though doing so would erase the memory of what he'd just seen. Unfortunately, whether he wanted it or not, the image of Renji's body had been seared into his mind.

* * *

Ichigo sat at his desk, listening to the chatter around him without truly paying enough attention to actually know what was going on. He had never understood why other people had so many things to talk about, but he wasn't really bothered by it as long as he wasn't required to participate in those lengthy, meaningless conversations.

The class fell silent abruptly when Ochi-sensei strode into the room. Chairs scraped the floor as students scrambled to get back to their seats.

"Good morning!" Ochi-sensei knocked on the blackboard to get her pupils' attention. When all eyes were on her, she gave a big smile and waved to someone outside the classroom.

Feeling mildly curious, Ichigo raised an eyebrow and looked towards the door, and then _both_ his eyebrows shot up to his hairline as a familiar figure walked into the room. Renji's hair was back in a spiky ponytail, and he was once again wearing a turtleneck shirt and sporting a white bandana across his forehead.

_Impossible._

"Class, this is Abarai Renji, our new transfer student!" Ochi-sensei announced, gesturing to the redhead.

Even with his head slightly bowed, Renji was a good one foot plus taller than the teacher. With his broad shoulders, height, and not to mention the unusual color of his hair, he was quite the sight. The class remained quiet, apparently stunned by his appearance. He didn't seem to mind the awkward silence, though; he just stood there, looking disinterested.

_Abarai?_

So the guy had a different last name from his father? That was unexpected, Ichigo thought.

"Take a seat next to Kurosaki," Ochi-sensei said. "He's the one with bright orange hair."

Ichigo scowled as some of his classmates snickered.

Renji didn't bother nodding before making his way slowly towards Ichigo and took his seat without giving Ichigo even the briefest glance.

Despite the redhead's silence, he'd obviously attracted everyone's attention, because he was the main topic during lunchtime that day. Ichigo sat with his friends on the roof at their usual lunch spot and listened to them talk excitedly about Renji, from his hair color to his eyes, it seemed like he had been completely dissected even though he'd only been in the school for less than a day.

"I texted a friend of mine," Keigo was saying. "He said he heard that Abarai has a _history_."

Mizuiro eyed him skeptically. "What do you mean?"

Keigo leaned forward and whispered in a dramatically secretive tone, "The guy was kicked out of school for fighting."

Ichigo rolled his eyes as he took a bite from his sandwich.

"Gang-related, you think?" somebody asked, sounding awed.

Keigo nodded thoughtfully. "Probably."

Ichigo couldn't help snorting in exasperation. It was just like Keigo to weave a possibly incorrect piece of information into a story. If Keigo had his way, this would be spread throughout the school by end of day.

"Come on, guys," he said, frowning pointedly at Keigo. "Don't believe in everything you hear. You don't even know if that's true."

"But my friend said so! He apparently beat up a bunch of kids, some of them even ended up in the hospita!" Keigo said indignantly.

"I don't think he looks that fierce," Orihime piped up sweetly, making Keigo blush.

Ichigo smirked. Given that Keigo had a huge crush on the girl, her lack of support was more effective at shutting him up than anything Ichigo could say.

"It's true," Keigo grumbled under his breath, but by then his friends had already moved on to other topics, and his pout went unnoticed.

* * *

Ichigo took his usual route home after school, walking with his head down with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

His red-haired neighbor had been just as silent during the classes after lunch as he had been in the morning. He responded as necessary when he was called upon in class, but other than that, he kept to himself, oblivious to the curious stares from his classmates.

To his own annoyance, Ichigo hadn't been able to get Keigo's gossip out of his mind. Much as he hated to admit it, he actually thought it was entirely possible that it was true. Renji definitely had the brawn to do it; Ichigo remembered how well-built he was. Not to mention, he had all those tattoos on him, too. Perhaps he did belong to a gang, who knew?

Ichigo didn't mention to his friends that Renji was his new neighbor. He knew that if he did, Keigo would never stop bugging him. Plus, he felt like he owed it to the guy to keep it quiet. Maybe he was feeling guilty for being a peeping tom last night, he mused.

Engrossed in his own thoughts, Ichigo rounded a corner and collided head-on with another pedestrian. Shocked and feeling more than a little embarrassed, he bent down and picked up the book that was dropped by the other person. When he looked back up, he found himself staring at the very man he'd been thinking of.

"Sorry." Ichigo handed the book to Renji, who accepted it without a word. Their eyes met briefly as the book exchanged hands, and Ichigo was struck by the intensity in the redhead's gaze. He didn't seem upset or angry, but he looked at Ichigo as though he could look _through_ him.

But the moment was gone as soon as it came, and Ichigo found himself in the awkward situation of having to walk home in silence with Renji, given that their homes were right next to each other. They arrived at Renji's house first, and the redhead simply turned into his driveway and walked off while Ichigo continued on his way. It was easily the weirdest few minutes of Ichigo's life, and he couldn't be happier that it was over.

After announcing his arrival, Ichigo promptly dragged himself up the stairs to his room. It was unbelievably hot that day, and he couldn't wait to step into a cold shower. Throwing his backpack on his desk, Ichigo pulled his t-shirt over his head, and was just about to wiggle out of his jeans when he glanced at the window.

Ichigo hadn't meant to look, he really hadn't, but he did nonetheless.

Renji was at his window with his back towards Ichigo, already out of his shirt.

 _Huh, he has tattoos there too_ , Ichigo thought absent-mindedly as he stared. They looked as though they were alive as Renji bent over, obviously in the process of removing his pants.

 _Huh, I wonder if he has any down there_ , Ichigo thought.

_Wait, what?_

Ichigo shook his head, feeling shocked at his own morbid curiosity. As if watching his neighbor—and classmate—undress two days in a row wasn't bad enough, he was actually wondering what lay below the waist? Wow, that had got to be a new low for him.

Determined not to let his mind wander any further, Ichigo drew his curtains and headed for the shower.

That night, he dreamed of Abarai Renji for the first time.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

Ichigo was feeling very, very disturbed. He'd been brushing his teeth for the past three minutes now, and he's still brushing, his hands working the toothbrush mechanically.

He had asked for it, of course. It's common sense that if your mind was obsessed about something, you would be more likely to dream about it. So he wasn't exactly surprised that his dream was a jumbled swirl of red and black, but he was downright shocked by his own reaction to the dream.

The last part of his dream had been a startlingly clear image of Renji looking at him. The redhead wasn't doing anything; he simply stood there, his eyes locked on Ichigo's. His face was expressionless, but his dark brown eyes bored into Ichigo, and Ichigo felt—for the lack of a better word— _naked_.

Not _naked_ naked, but rather as though Renji could see into his head, if that made any sense. As if the redhead was saying _I know you've been watching me_.

But the kicker, the real kicker was that Ichigo had found it arousing. So arousing that he had woken up with a soiled blanket.

Ichigo promised himself that he wouldn't look anymore. Tonight, he would _draw the fucking curtain_ before he did anything stupid. The only reason he left it open during the day was to let sunlight into his room; he didn't like his room being dark and musty.

No more. No more peeping, no more gawking. He would not look at the redhead's lean, sculpted body anymore. He would keep his eyes away from the thick red locks that flowed past those angular shoulders. He would not imagine how those tattoos would feel under his fingers. He would not—

 _Fuck_.

Ichigo hit his forehead against his mirror, then again, and again. It was not even the least bit distracting, unless he was willing to risk hitting it hard enough to crack the mirror and cut himself. Dismayed, he let his head rest against the mirror for a few more seconds, the toothbrush hanging limply between his lips.

It was another ten minutes before he finally came out of the bathroom. Flinging his closet doors open, he reached in and grabbed a random t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Jeans. He needed jeans; he looked around and finally remembered that he had flung it over his chair last night.

Walking over to his desk, he picked up his pants off the back of the chair and started to bend over to pull it on.

_Don't look._

His face was angled away from the window, but if he moved his eyes just a little bit, he could still easily see what's outside without having to turn around.

_Don't look._

He was frozen in place, one hand on the back of his chair to hold himself upright, and the other holding the waistband of his jeans. His neck twitched.

_Don't look don't look don't look._

He forced his neck to keep still, but his eyes—his traitorous, treacherous eyes—moved.

No red hair, no bare chest, no tattoos.

Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders suddenly sagging. Unless Renji was hiding underneath the window sill or behind the walls next to the window, the room was empty. Emboldened by the knowledge, he hastily pulled on his jeans and straightened up, and then he peered into Renji's room.

The redhead's furniture was placed slightly differently from Ichigo's. Ichigo had his desk at the window and his bed tucked away against the wall, hidden from view, whereas Renji's bed was across from his window. If Ichigo tiptoed, he actually had a full view of the bed. It was currently empty; the sheets rumpled and unmade.

So Renji was an early riser, Ichigo thought. That actually surprised him. Somehow he imagined the redhead to be the type who stayed up late at night listening to rock music.

He really needed to stop stereotyping the guy just because of his damn tattoos.

* * *

When Ichigo finally strolled into class, he got another surprise—the seat next to his was empty. He'd assumed that Renji must be in school by now, given that he'd gotten up earlier, but then he immediately chastised himself for jumping into conclusions. Just because Renji wasn't in his room didn't mean he'd left the house.

The bell rang, but his neighbor's seat still remained empty. Ochi-sensei waltzed in, and the first lesson of the day began.

Almost a full hour into the lesson, Renji finally appeared. He nodded at Ochi-sensei and walked to his seat, calm and steady as though he wasn't even aware of his own late arrival.

"Nice of you to join us, Abarai-san," Ochi-sensei said, delivering her usual line to anyone who got in late for her class.

The redhead looked at her for a few seconds. Then, as tension mounted in the classroom with all the students staring intently between the teacher and Renji, he bowed his head and said quietly, "Sorry."

Just like that. No blushing, not a hint of nervousness in his voice, and he most certainly did not sound the least bit apologetic.

Ichigo saw Ochi-sensei purse her lips, and for a second she looked as if she was going to dish out some sort of punishment. Then, to his surprise, she sighed and turned back to the blackboard and continued the lesson. Gradually, the students began to lose interest in the redhead, and he was left alone.

Well, not entirely alone. Ichigo was trying very hard to be subtle, but he couldn't help eyeing his neighbor, attempting to see his face. He would die before he admitted to anyone that he was intrigued, but he was. Ichigo was certain other people were, too, but somehow, either because Renji was his neighbor or because he'd seen something so personal about the guy, Ichigo found himself especially curious.

He didn't know how he knew it, but Ichigo felt certain that this was not the _real_ Renji. The real person was hidden deep under those layers of thick, stifling clothes, safely concealed from the public. For the first time in his life, Ichigo felt an urge to find out more about someone; the notion was both foreign and new to him, and if Ichigo was honest to himself, he was scared shitless.

* * *

"Oh, god, I thought we were never going to finish this," Keigo complained with a dramatic sigh. He yawned, and Mizuiro promptly followed suit.

Ichigo swallowed and looked away, unwilling to cave into the urge to yawn as well. He slammed his text book shut and gathered the hastily scribbled notes, and began to sweep them into his backpack.

"I'm hungry," Mizuiro said as he, too, zipped up his backpack.

The three of them had stayed back after school to finish up a group project. Ichigo'd had low expectations on how much they would achieve, but his friends surprised him, and they had actually managed to complete the assignment that afternoon.

The sudden consumption of brain cells seemed to have drained them of energy, though. Now that Mizuiro had brought it up, Ichigo's stomach growled, reminding him that he was hungry too.

Keigo stood up and threw his backpack over one shoulder. "Ramen?" he asked, looking expectantly at Mizuiro and Ichigo.

The restaurant wasn't packed when they arrived, but Ichigo wasn't surprised. Peak lunch hour was over after all. They placed their orders and asked for hot tea, and then chatted as they waited, the conversation focusing mostly on Keigo's obsession with Orihime.

"Is it just me, or are they taking a ridiculously long time to get us our tea?" Keigo grumbled.

Mizuiro rolled his eyes and flagged down their waiter, who immediately hollered in the direction of the kitchen, barking orders at someone in there who had apparently messed up.

What an asshole, Ichigo thought as the man went on and on, practically ripping the other person apart with unnecessarily harsh words. He recognized this type of character—arrogant, self righteous bastards who longed for authority that they could not have and loved bullying the few who were unlucky enough to have lower rank.

The kitchen doors opened outwards and a familiar figure stepped out with a tray balanced precariously in his right hand.

Ichigo's mouth fell open.

The waiter walked next to Renji, presumably still admonishing the redhead for his slip-up. Ichigo saw Renji say something back; whatever it was, it obviously pissed the older guy off because he suddenly shoved the tray from Renji's hand.

Ichigo cringed and braced for the inevitable crash and mess that was to come, but to his surprise, the redhead's left hand shot out immediately and actually managed to intercept the tray. Still, even though it didn't fall, some of the tea splashed out and landed on the back of his hand. Ichigo could see steam rising from the cups, so he could only imagine how hot the liquid was, but Renji didn't flinch. His jaw muscles flexed, but other than that, he looked unaffected.

Instead of apologizing, the waiter huffed and continued with his tirade, obviously disappointed that his attempt to humiliate Renji had failed.

Ichigo felt a surge of anger and indignation.

"Can you quit it already?" He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the older man. "It's not a big deal and you're making a fool out of yourself."

The waiter shot him a dirty look before stalking off.

"Dude, chill," Keigo hissed. "Now he's probably gonna spit in our food, man."

Ichigo turned his glare on his friend, and Keigo held up his hands in defeat. "Just sayin'," he mumbled anyway. "You don't have to get all riled up for the pineapple."

Ichigo cocked an eyebrow. _Pineapple?_

"His hair," Mizuiro whispered as Renji approached.

Before Ichigo had the chance to retort, the redhead arrived and placed the tray at their table. Without a word, he set the tea cups in front of each of them, showing no sign of recognition.

But Ichigo knew he recognized them, because right as Renji turned around, he looked at Ichigo, right in the eye. It was brief, probably less than a second, but Ichigo's heart skipped a beat under the penetrating gaze. And then just like that, Renji walked away.

"Arrogant prick," Keigo muttered, looking at the redhead's retreating back with a frown. "Didn't even thank you for sticking up for him."

Ichigo didn't reply; he was too bothered by the fact that he was bothered by Renji's eyes.

* * *

Ichigo lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Yuzu to announce that dinner was ready.

After Renji served them tea, he had disappeared into the kitchen and stayed there. Ichigo was very surprised to see him work there; Renji just didn't seem like the kind who worked in a restaurant. And the way he had not acknowledged them at all...Ichigo wondered if he felt ashamed to have to serve his classmates.

But then again, _those eyes_ didn't look that way. Truth be told, Ichigo was beginning to feel pissed about the whole eye contact thing. It always seemed so one-sided; it just wasn't fair that he felt like an open book while Renji remained opaque.

But what was he supposed to do about it?

_And why do I even care?_

He felt like an idiot fretting over this. With a frustrated grunt, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, deciding that his time would be better spent downstairs. Even if he couldn't help Yuzu in the kitchen, he could at least prepare the dining table for dinner.

Just as he placed the first set of silverware on the table, the doorbell rang. Thinking that it was perhaps his dad with his hands full of files and his briefcase, Ichigo flung the door open.

"Tsukabishi-san," he said, unable to keep his surprise out of his voice.

The man handed him a plate. "Sorry I took so long to return this to you," he said, sounding a little sheepish.

"Oh, it's not a problem." Ichigo took the plate, and then when his neighbor made no move to leave, he added tentatively, "Would you...uh, would you like to come in?"

"Ah, thank you, but no, I'm fine here." Tessai scratched his head and fidgeted a little awkwardly. "I just...you're in the same class as my son, right?"

Ichigo raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah," he said, unsure where this conversation was heading.

His neighbor hesitated for a moment, seemingly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. "He'll kill me if he finds out that I talked to you about this, so keep this between the two of us, okay?" Tessai's voice dropped a few notches.

Ichigo nodded.

"I don't really get to spend a lot of time with Renji, because of my work schedule and all," Tessai began, scratching his head again. "I thought I'd, you know, ask you to look out for him a little. He's going through a bit of a rough patch, so I apologize in advance for anything...you know..." He trailed off and looked at Ichigo.

Well, that explained the brooding, Ichigo thought. This unexpected revelation from Renji's father piqued his curiosity, but it didn't look like the man was going to offer any more details, so he just nodded and said, "Sure. I'll do that."

Tessai sighed and straightened up. "Thanks, Kurosaki-san, I really appreciate it."

Only then did Ichigo notice the t-shirt that his neighbor was wearing underneath his jacket. It was tight, the black fabric strained across the man's expansive chest. On his left, where his heart would be, were golden-yellow letters that said "TAO", and then below that, in a smaller font, said "Security".

The man noticed Ichigo's questioning gaze and offered, "I work as a security guard at the TAO nightclub. You know the place?"

"Yeah, but I haven't been inside," Ichigo said. He knew that "security guard" was just a nicer term for bouncer. It made sense now what the man had meant when he said that his work schedule preventing him from seeing his son.

"Oh, right. Underaged." Tessai smiled.

"Yeah," Ichigo said. He felt awkward; this was the first time an adult confided in him regarding a matter like this, and he suddenly felt as though he'd been asked to become a spy.

Tessai shoved his massive hands into his jacket pockets and nodded. "Thanks again, Kurosaki-san. Well, I have to go." He began to turn and walk away, and then he stopped. "Oh yes, I meant to ask, are you all free this Saturday?" he asked. "If you are, I'd like to invite you and your family over for dinner. Kind of like a small housewarming party, you know? Nothing fancy."

"Yes we're free!"

Startled, Ichigo turned around to see Yuzu smiling warmly at Tessai. "Tsukabishi-san, this is my sister Yuzu," he said, gesturing to his sister with his head.

Tessai waved at her. "Great! We'll see you around six thirty this Saturday, then," he said, looking pleased. Then, after stealing a quick look at his watch, he wished them a good evening and left for work.

Ichigo closed the door.

"Why didn't you tell me that you are classmates with our neighbor?" Yuzu asked, curious.

Oops. "Didn't think it was a big deal." Ichigo shrugged. "Say, is the food ready? I'm kinda hungry," he said, hoping to divert his sister's attention.

"Oh!" With a gasp of dismay, Yuzu rushed into the kitchen to save her food, and the conversation was promptly forgotten.

* * *

Ichigo reeked of curry. It was delicious, of course; Yuzu's cooking skills were superb, but not everything that smelled good in a bowl smelled good on clothes.

_The curtain._

Remembering his vow, Ichigo went to his desk and reached up to draw his curtains.

_Don't look. Just keep your hand steady and close the fucking curtain._

He looked.

_Shit._

Renji was standing with his side towards the window, his hands just about to reach for the hem of his turtleneck shirt. Several tugs later, it was over his head and flung carelessly on the floor. Without missing a beat, he pulled off his hair tie, and his hair immediately cascaded down his shoulders.

_Is his hair red everywhere?_

_Wait, what?_

Ichigo groaned and cursed his overactive imagination.

_I should really look away now. Oh, and close the bloody curtain._

Renji's shoulders was now hunched over and he was looking down, his hands busy working on something.

_Belt buckle? Zipper?_

Ichigo slowly reached up for the curtain, his eyes still riveted on his neighbor. The redhead's head was bowed, his face completely hidden behind a sheet of hair, apparently still fiddling with something below his waist.

_Close the fucking curtain._

Ichigo shook his head and finally grabbed the curtain. But just as he was about to pull it close, his breath caught in his throat, and he froze.

Across from his room, head now lifted and turned towards the window, Renji was looking straight at him.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

_The fuck?_

Renji stared at the carrot-top in disbelief, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked down at himself, his fingers frozen in the middle of trying to get his stuck zipper to cooperate. And then he looked back up again—his neighbor's curtain had been drawn.

Right about now, his old self would've stormed over to the house next door and beat the crap out of the boy. He'd aim for one of the eyes, teach the guy a lesson for looking at things he had no business looking. Then he'd probably give him a knee in the gut to top it off.

But that was the old Renji. The new Renji just walked over to his window and shut his blinds. Didn't mean he couldn't fume on the inside, though.

No wonder he'd felt as though he was being watched. He had ignored it at first, thinking that he was being paranoid. But the hairs on the back of his neck refused to stop tingling, so he'd finally looked up.

Ichigo. The idiot's name is Ichigo, if he remembered correctly.

How much did the guy see? Renji wondered. Feeling a bit stupid but too curious to stop, he stood next to the window. Okay, not too bad, the wall came up to a couple of inches below his waist. So the idiot couldn't have seen much, at least nothing down there.

But, still. He'd seen the tattoos. A big chunk of Renji's past that he was hoping to forget. Except he could never forget it of course, unless he became blind. Every day, whenever he undressed, he was assaulted by the sight—the ugly, disgusting sight of his body covered in those markings.

The markings that _he_ had talked him into getting. It had been fun. Romantic, even, because each tattoo—they were added gradually even though they looked intertwined now—held a different meaning. Their first kiss, the time he told his dad about _him_ , the time _he_ told _his_ family about him, the first time they slept together, the first time they walked out in public as a couple.

It made him sick now just thinking about it. During the day, when his clothes covered them, he could at least pretend that they didn't exist, forget them, even for a little while. But at night, that's when he couldn't escape from them.

That's why he didn't have a mirror in his room, not even in his bathroom. He couldn't bear looking at his own reflection. But he could still see most of them; on his arms, his chest, his abdomen. There was no way to hide.

And now this idiot had seen him, intruded on his most private moment. Renji felt anger burn deep in his gut and well into his chest.

_Breathe._

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Then he sucked in a deep breath, just as slowly. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

His heartbeat gradually calmed down. That was a close call; he hadn't felt so angry for a while, not even yesterday when his supervisor gave him all that shit. He couldn't afford to. Not after what happened.

* * *

Ichigo slid down the wall, his eyes wide in horror.

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit._

His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. He couldn't believe it—he'd been caught. He'd been caught. _Caught_. Renji had looked right at him, caught him in the act.

What was he supposed to do now? Apologize to the guy?

_Yeah, hey, about last night, sorry I looked._

Despite himself, Ichigo snorted at the absurdity of the thought. He had no idea what to do, and his stomach lurched when he remembered that he'd have to face the redhead the next day.

That night, he dreamed of Abarai Renji for the second time.

* * *

It didn't go too badly.

It didn't, because he never got the chance to talk to Renji, because Renji simply refused to meet his eyes the next day. Every time Ichigo looked his way and tried to read his expression, to see if he could somehow begin a conversation, Renji averted his eyes, and he wasn't even subtle about it.

It looked like Renji was just going to pretend it never happened. Ichigo should feel relieved, but he wasn't. It was like a thorn on his side, digging deeper and deeper into his flesh with each breath. He couldn't pretend the way Renji did, it just wasn't in his nature.

Ichigo thought he could catch Renji right as he was about to leave the class, but the redhead slipped out so quickly that Ichigo couldn't stop him without causing a scene in front of their classmates. So he could only grit his teeth and stare at Renji's back as the boy practically ran out of the room.

He could, technically, go over to Renji's house and ask to speak with him, but that would be awkward spelled in capital letters.

Ichigo was pretty sure that this wasn't the type of "looking" Renji's father had meant when he asked Ichigo to look out for his son.

* * *

By the time Saturday rolled along, Ichigo was ready to burst. There was simply no opening for him to talk to Renji at school. Whenever he tried to approach the guy, the redhead would pretend he didn't see him, didn't hear him, or simply just walk away.

Ichigo was sprawled comfortably on the couch when Yuzu and Karin walked into the living room. Yuzu was dressed in her nice "going out" clothes, and Karin, for once, wasn't wearing her baseball cap.

"Going out?" Ichigo asked, looking up lazily as he flipped to another TV channel.

"Ichi-nii! You forgot!" Yuzu said in exasperation.

Ichigo sat up, confused. "Forgot what?" It was Saturday, what could he possibly be forgetting?

And then it dawned on him—Saturday, six thirty in the evening. Dinner at Tsukabishi Tessai's house.

_Shit._

Dinner at _Renji's_ house.

Ichigo was torn. On one hand, it could be a good opportunity for him to talk to Renji. But on the other hand, he could not imagine talking to Renji about it with everyone around. His fate was sealed, however, when his father appeared in the living room. If he said he didn't want to go, he would be bombarded with a thousand questions, and that was the last thing he needed.

And so he trudged along the short distance between their houses with his family.

Renji's home was sparsely-decorated; they had all the necessities, but it was obvious that the house was occupied by men due to the lack of decorations like flowers and photos. Tessai had welcomed them warmly, and then promptly disappeared into the kitchen to make final preparations.

Renji was nowhere in sight.

Ichigo fiddled quietly with the silverware placed in front of him, trying to decide if he felt relieved or disappointed. A bit of both, he supposed. He realized that he didn't know what to expect; it was hard to imagine the redhead sitting at the table having dinner with them.

Then, right when Tessai began to bring out the dishes from the kitchen, Renji walked down the stairs. He was wearing a navy blue turtleneck, the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He gave his guests a brief glance—pointedly avoiding Ichigo's eyes, his face expressionless as always. Then, without a word, he went into the kitchen to help his father.

Dinner felt strange to Ichigo; all he could think of was how he could talk to Renji. The most awkward part about the meal was that Renji sat across from Ichigo. It was hard to avoid eye contact, given that the table wasn't all that wide, but they managed to do it anyway.

Nobody else seemed to detect the tension between the two boys, and for that Ichigo was glad.

Ichigo's opening finally came when Tessai began to clear away the empty dishes.

"I'll wash them," Renji said quietly.

"I'll help," Ichigo blurted out. The redhead's eyes immediately narrowed.

Tessai was completely oblivious to his son's change of expression. Sounding pleased, he said, "Thank you, Kurosaki-kun, I'll leave it to you boys! Come, come, Kurosaki-san, let me show you the CD collection of mine that I was telling you about."

Ichigo stood up and followed Renji into the kitchen while his dad and sisters followed Tessai into the living room. By the time he walked up to the sink, Renji was already rinsing the dirty dishes. Ichigo stood next to him, unsure how to begin.

After a long, very awkward silence, he finally said, "I'm sorry."

* * *

Renji stiffened.

He knew that Ichigo had been trying to talk to him over the past few days, and he had avoided the guy like the plague. He didn't want to talk about what happened. It wasn't like words could make any difference anyway. What could Ichigo do, apologize? That would just be stupid.

So when Ichigo _really_ did apologize, Renji didn't know how to react.

"I was an ass, I'm sorry," Ichigo continued.

Renji remained silent, but he risked a sideways glance at his classmate. Ichigo's face was pink, and he was staring at the sink as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, but he looked determined. His voice didn't waver. Despite himself, Renji felt a surge of respect for the boy.

He probably wouldn't have the courage to do this. But then again, he wouldn't be a peeping tom in the first place.

"Whatever," he found himself saying.

Ichigo didn't respond immediately. Whether the guy was shocked that he had actually replied or he was simply too embarrassed to say anything, Renji wasn't sure. Almost ten agonizing seconds later, Ichigo finally said, "Thanks."

"Yeah, whatever," Renji mumbled. He continued to rinse the dishes, scrubbing occasionally to get the more stubborn stuff off the smooth surface. Then he reached out to place a plate into the dishwasher.

Ichigo intercepted the plate before it got there. "Let me help," he said.

Renji looked up and met those brown eyes. "Okay," he replied before turning back to grab the others.

One by one, Ichigo arranged the dishes in the dishwasher, and then Renji turned it on. The dishwasher began to hum loudly as water filled the machine, and they found themselves standing in the kitchen with nothing else to do. For a moment, the classmates stared at each other in silence.

"I won't tell anyone," Ichigo said suddenly.

 _Duh, of course you're not gonna tell people that you_ —

"The tattoos," Ichigo continued. "I won't tell anyone about them."

Taken by surprise, Renji automatically balled his hands into fists at the mention of the dreaded reminders of his past. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

Ichigo either didn't see his expression or was simply too nosy for his own good. "Why are you hiding?" he asked softly.

The question hit Renji like a slap, and he flinched visibly. It didn't make any sense, but he felt as though his clothes were abruptly taken from him, and he felt chilled to the bone. "It's none of your business," he hissed.

"I thought...maybe I can help," Ichigo mumbled. He averted his eyes for a second, and then his gaze returned, as if his eyes needed to take a break before he could continue looking at Renji.

Renji blinked. He felt his anger rising, but there was something in Ichigo's eyes that somehow kept that anger at bay. He blinked again. Damn it, this was the second time in less than an hour he didn't know how to react. "You can't," he said finally.

"I can try." Ichigo's eyes took on a stubborn gleam. "If you let me."

Renji felt like snorting. He felt like biting Ichigo's head off. He felt a lot of things. But instead, an idea occurred to him. It was a cruel idea, but it would serve the carrot-top right. He wanted to help so much, eh?

_I'll show you that you've bitten off more than you could chew._

"Okay," Renji said. He stared intently into Ichigo's eyes.

"Okay?" The boy echoed, incredulous.

Renji allowed himself a smirk. "I'll let you."

"Really?" Ichigo's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

Renji cocked an eyebrow and shot his classmate a challenging look.

Ichigo hesitated, and then his lips curled up into a grin. "Deal."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo lay on his bed, his fingers laced loosely behind his head.

" _I'll let you._ "

He could see Renji's slightly narrowed eyes staring at him even with his eyes closed. Ichigo was beyond surprised; that was the last thing he'd expected to hear. But the redhead had said it.

Ichigo couldn't help feeling that there was more to it than Renji let on. It didn't make sense for someone as anti-social—or at least, _seem_ anti-social—to suddenly be willing to open up to him. It just reeked of trouble, but Ichigo could not think of what Renji could possibly gain from this.

He'd play along, Ichigo decided. He had nothing to lose anyway.

* * *

Apparently Renji's idea of "letting him help" did not include a change of behavior at school. Ichigo almost thought that his conversation with Renji in the kitchen was just a dream; the redhead was just as quiet and cold in class the next day. And then just as Ichigo thought he'd ask, Renji turned around and gave him a very, very subtle smirk.

_Good. Not a dream._

The sense of relief that washed over him at the sight of that barely-there curve of lips brought a smile to his face, but before he could smile back at Renji, the boy had already turned back towards the blackboard, and Ichigo found himself staring at the side of Renji's face.

Renji had really sharp features, Ichigo noted absent-mindedly—high cheekbones, strong jaw, deep-set eyes framed by lashes that would make most girls jealous. It was still difficult for him to maintain eye contact with the redhead for too long, but it was getting better. He didn't understand why he felt so uncomfortable under Renji's gaze, and he was determined to find out and overcome it.

When lunchtime rolled along, Ichigo debated briefly whether he should invite Renji to join his gang, but abandoned the idea in the end.

_One step at a time._

Besides, it looked like Renji was already occupied. Ichigo watched in amusement as two blushing girls went up to the redhead's desk with carefully-wrapped lunch boxes. Ichgio knew what that meant; they were interested in the boy. It wasn't uncommon for girls to offer a crush a lunch box, Ichigo had received a few himself before his lack of reaction drove the girls away.

Now Renji had _two_. This scene was too good to miss.

The redhead didn't look up until one of the girls cleared her throat, and when he did, they looked as though they would keel over in delight. They looked at each other and giggled nervously before thrusting the lunch boxes in front of Renji.

Ichigo couldn't see the redhead's face, but he thought he _heard_ the Renji's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He bit his lip to stifle the laugh that was beginning to well up in his throat. He supposed this wasn't all that unexpected; he'd heard that some girls liked "tall, dark, mysterious" men, and if Renji didn't fit the bill, Ichigo didn't know who did. Ichigo forced himself to sit still and watch discretely out of the corner of his eyes.

"Please accept, Abarai-san!" the bolder of the two girls said.

She was met with silence.

"Abarai-san?" the girl prompted.

Renji looked from one girl to the other, then, just as Ichigo thought the redhead was going to turn away and ignore them, Renji spoke. "Thank you, I appreciate it, but no thanks."

Ichigo tilted his head slightly to look at the girls' expressions—they looked crestfallen. Yet Ichigo couldn't help but feel surprised. He'd fully expected Renji to ignore them in his usual cold, detached manner. That sentence was probably the longest he'd spoken to anyone in the class besides answering the teacher's questions.

"Sorry," Renji added, actually sounding apologetic.

The girls blushed and practically ran out of the classroom. Once they were out of earshot, Ichigo whispered, "Why not?"

Renji scowled. "I'm not interested," he said simply, then without elaborating, he turned back to his homework and fell silent.

_Not interested in these two girls? Or not interested in girls? Or not interested in having a relationship?_

Ichigo had so many questions to ask, but figured that they were way too personal, and this was neither the time nor place anyway.

 _One step at a time_ , he reminded himself.

* * *

As they walked out of the school gate that day, Ichigo noticed that Renji didn't walk towards the direction of the ramen shop. Instead, they began to walk side-by-side even though neither did anything to suggest walking home together. Ichigo supposed it was only natural, seeing how they're neighbors and all.

_Would he walk with me like this if we hadn't talked in the kitchen that day?_

Ichigo didn't want to ask; he would just sound stupid.

For a long time they walked in silence, the only sound around them being the crunching of gravel beneath their feet. Ichigo threw his companion a sidelong glance.

"Have you finished that math assignment?" he asked casually.

Renji shook his head.

"Do you want to come over to do it together?" Ichigo took a risk and held his breath as he waited for the redhead to respond.

Renji stared at him, and Ichigo forced himself to maintain eye contact. He couldn't tell what Renji was thinking, but once again he felt the same dreaded feeling of being read as Renji's narrow brown eyes bored into his.

"Okay," Renji said finally.

Ichigo was pleasantly surprised. "Cool," he said. "Just come over whenever, I'm home the rest of the day. Ring the doorbell and I'll come down and get you."

"Sure," came the curt reply.

When Renji arrived at his doorstep a couple hours later, Ichigo invited him in and led him up to his bedroom. Not wanting to make the redhead feel uncomfortable, he left the door wide open.

"Huh, very funny," Renji commented as he glanced at the little sign on Ichigo's bedroom door. The sign said "15"—a play of words on Ichigo's first name. "You have an interesting name, by the way."

Ichigo groaned inwardly. _Here it comes_ , he braced himself for the dreaded comment of how his name meant "strawberry", but Renji's words surprised him.

"Protector," Renji said, throwing his bag onto the floor and sitting down next to it. "Fitting name for a big brother."

Ichigo stared at him, mouth gaping in disbelief. He felt a rush of emotion—joy? relief? gratitude?—that he didn't quite understand. This was exactly what his mother had meant when she gave him this name. And nobody, _nobody_ , not even his childhood friend Tatsuki, truly understood the significance of it.

And now, hearing it from a boy who knew him for barely two weeks—Ichigo didn't know how to react.

"What?" Renji asked, finally noticing Ichigo's expression.

Ichigo snapped back to attention. "Nothing," he said hastily, suddenly aware that he'd been standing there like an idiot.

They made progress on their assignment—slow, but steady progress. Math was taxing on the brain, and after an hour they both found themselves needing a break.

Renji lay down on the bedroom floor with his fingers laced behind his head. He was wearing his usual outfit—bandana, long-sleeved turtleneck top, jeans. Once again Ichigo wondered how he could stand wearing all that in the sweltering heat. He was so tempted to ask about the tattoos, but he remembered how strongly Renji had reacted when he mentioned them the other day, so he decided to ask about another thing that had been bugging him instead.

"So, how is it that you have a different last name from your dad?" he asked carefully.

Renji looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

Ichigo added hurriedly, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

The redhead sighed and stared up at the ceiling. The room fell into awkward silence, and Ichigo felt sorry that he'd asked.

"He's my step-dad," Renji said suddenly.

Ichigo was startled. _Well, that would explain the hair color…_

"My birth father died when I was really young, around one or two, I think," Renji continued. "Tessai married my mom a couple years later, but she didn't last very long either."

Ichigo fidgeted.

"She died one year after she remarried, and Tessai was stuck with me. You'd think he'd just dump me, right? But nope, he raised me by himself. Said that he didn't marry a wife, he married a family."

"Wow," Ichigo muttered, feeling a wave of respect for his neighbor.

"Yeah, wow," Renji chuckled. "Even asked me to keep my last name. Said that he knows how much my mom loved my dad…well, birth father, Tessai's my dad. But, anyway, he said that my mom really loved my birth father, and that he died on the battlefield so he deserved respect." He paused. "So…yeah. He's a fucking saint."

Ichigo heard the note of pride and affection in Renji's voice, and he felt a tug in his heart. Renji wasn't the cold, unfeeling robot that he made himself look at school. Why was he hiding?

 _One step at a time,_ Ichigo told himself again.

"My mom died when I was young too," Ichigo said, feeling compelled to share after hearing Renji's story. "Snatch theft. She fell and hit her head on the pavement."

Renji sat up. "Sorry," he said softly.

Ichigo gave him a grateful look. "I was nine," he went on. "I was right there, but I couldn't do anything. By the time I realized something happened, she was already on the ground. They said she had a bad concussion from the fall, then there were complications from a blood clot." He sighed; no matter how many times he told the story, he felt just as sad and useless. "I was right there and I didn't do anything."

"You were nine," Renji said. "What could you have done? You'd probably just get yourself killed too."

"That's what they all tell me."

"Yeah, and they're right. You're not still blaming yourself after all this time, are you?" Renji asked with a frown.

Ichigo shrugged. "I did at first. But, it's getting better."

"Well I'm not the only messed up one here, then," Renji snorted before he could stop himself.

Ichigo looked at him, raising his eyebrows inquiringly. But Renji had closed up, his mouth a thin, stubborn line, as though he just realized that he'd said too much. Ichigo decided not to push; this was already beyond his expectation.

Awkwardness descended upon the two boys again, and this time Renji stood up and said he was going to leave.

"Thanks," Ichigo said as he held the front door open for Renji.

The redhead cocked an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Letting me help, and for listening," Ichigo said, feeling a little embarrassed.

Renji gave him a look. "You're weird, you know that?"

Ichigo chuckled. Perhaps he was, but it felt good to get a glimpse—small and brief as it was—of what lay beneath that ice cold exterior. "Whatever," he said.

"Whatever," Renji replied, allowing himself a small smirk.

* * *

_Too easy._

Renji lay in his bed and closed his eyes.

It was infuriating how comfortable it was to talk to Ichigo. He went there to do homework, for fuck's sake, not for a heart-to-heart. Well, the stuff about him and Tessai was bound to come out eventually—the difference in their last names was just too obvious an opening, people always ended up asking no matter how polite they tried to be in the beginning.

Still.

He was surprised that Ichigo shared his story too. He'd been wondering where the mother was, but had never thought of asking. He didn't like airing his own ghosts and he had no intention to poke around in other's.

How long had it been since he had such a long conversation that _wasn't_ with his dad?

_Too long._

Renji almost missed his old life, and he would, if it weren't for the fact that he couldn't separate the bad memories from the good ones. He wished that he could just store the good ones and wipe out the bad ones—if only life worked like that.

He used to have a lot of friends. He used to be popular. A star athlete in school. He had kept his body in good shape after the incident, but it wasn't for the same goals anymore. He could no longer picture himself as anything but a nobody now; he just didn't have the energy or motivation to push himself the way he used to, to excel in the things he loved. And he was content being this way.

Until this stupid carrot-top looked through the window.

It was scary. Renji had almost said too much towards the end of the conversation. He hadn't meant to feel so at ease with Ichigo. It was supposed to be a game, a challenge, and he was making it too easy for the guy.

He needed to be careful.

* * *

Ichigo had been feeling upbeat when he slid behind his desk the next day, but the minute he noticed Renji avert his eyes when he looked over at him, he heart sank.

He wasn't stupid; he'd caught the abrupt transition from "almost-friendly" Renji to "leave-me-the-fuck-alone" Renji yesterday. But he hadn't expected the redhead to shut him out completely again. Not after they'd exchanged their stories like that. Hell, if it didn't sound so girly, Ichigo would call the conversation in his bedroom a bonding moment.

Now he'd have to start all over again.

_Is it because I asked him about his father?_

Ichigo scratched the back of his head and glared at his text book. He really didn't understand the guy. Perhaps it really was because he asked something so personal. Perhaps the steps in his " _one step at a time_ " approach were too large.

He waited until the end of the school day, and this time he managed to block Renji's path before he could slip out of the classroom.

"What'd I do wrong?" he demanded, looking up at the taller boy.

Renji moved to the right to walk around Ichigo, but Ichigo stepped in front of him. The redhead looked at him with a bored expression and stepped to the left. Ichigo stepped in front of him again.

"I didn't mean to push you," Ichigo said, determined to keep Renji here until he knew what the hell was going on.

"Get out of my way," Renji growled, eyes flashing menacingly in Ichigo's face.

Ichigo refused to back down. "Things were okay yesterday, is it something I did? I need to know what I did so that I can stop doing it."

Renji sighed.

"Is it because I asked you about your last name?" Ichigo asked stubbornly.

No response from the redhead.

Ichigo gritted his teeth in frustration. "If it's because of that, I won't ask you any more questions. I'll listen if you wanna talk, but no more questions," he offered. "I'll give you your space, please don't shut me out."

Still no response. Then, finally, Renji rolled his eyes and sighed again. "Whatever," he muttered.

 _Not very promising, but better than nothing_.

"Okay." Ichigo stepped aside, opening a path for the redhead.

Renji immediately pushed past him. When he was at the door, he turned back and looked at Ichigo. "You're weird, you know that?"

Ichigo grinned. "So I've been told."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

"Why are you weird?" a familiar voice asked.

Keigo and Mizuiro walked into the classroom just as Renji went out of earshot. They were both sporting amused smiles, and Keigo, especially, had his eyebrows arched so high that his forehead crinkled.

"None of your business," Ichigo huffed, feeling miffed that he had been overheard, and heaved his backpack over a shoulder.

"I believe that's the first time I've heard him speak to a classmate," Mizuiro commented, taping his chin thoughtfully.

Ichigo gave them a look of exasperation. Why, oh why, of all people to overhear their conversation, why did it have to be them?

"Yeah, the arrogant prick," Keigo muttered. "I overheard that he turned down Masaki's bento box. She's totally heartbroken."

"Oh, come on." Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Don't talk about him like that behind his back. It's not his fault that he's not interested in Masaki."

Keigo snorted. "You know what," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He gave Ichigo a playful smile. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say there's something going on between you two. This is not the first time you're sticking up for him, Ichigo."

His friend's teasing words hit Ichigo like a punch in his face. He blinked, shocked and not understanding why he was so bothered by it; he knew that Keigo was just joking around with him. His unusual reaction didn't go unnoticed.

"Shit," Keigo said, eyes wide in disbelief. "Is it true? I was just kidding, man."

Ichigo scowled, hoping that his face wasn't turning red as he felt a rush of heat creep up from his neck. "Don't be an idiot," he growled, shooting Keigo a dirty look. He walked past his friends, ignoring their looks of surprise.

"If it's true, you gotta tell us!" Ichigo heard Keigo yell to his back, but he simply rolled his eyes and kept walking.

_Really? Is it so weird to defend a friend?_

Ichigo frowned, unconsciously walking faster as he replayed Keigo's teasing words, feeling more and more pissed off with each step. But as he gradually approached his house, he began to slow down, his attention switching to the conversation with Renji that his friends had overheard.

" _I'll give you your space, please don't shut me out._ "

Ichigo cringed when he remembered what he said to the redhead. He _had_ said that, and now, the more he thought about it, the more pathetic he felt; he must've sounded really desperate. And for what? He barely knew Renji in the first place, why did he cared so much about helping him?

 _His dad asked you to look out for him, remember?_ Ichigo reminded himself.

 _Yeah, well, his dad didn't ask you to check him out while he's changing_ , his inner voice piped up helpfully.

Yeah, well, shit.

 _Oh, and,_ his inner voice added, _have you forgotten about_ those dreams _already?_

Ichigo groaned inwardly at the memory.

Without really paying attention to where he was going, he somehow still managed to reach his house. Despite himself, he automatically looked up at his neighbor's house as he walked up to his front door. He squinted; there was a lone figure sitting on the front steps of Renji's house. Someone he had not seen before.

Feeling curious, and knowing that the redhead wouldn't be back until his shift at the ramen shop ended, which was still hours away, Ichigo backtracked away from his front door and approached Renji's house.

"Hey!" he called out.

The figure—a young boy—jumped to his feet, obviously startled by Ichigo. "H-hi!" the boy said, stuttering a little. His black hair was straight and long, nearly reaching his chin, and he was short, skinny to the point of looking kind of scrawny. He bounded down the steps as Ichigo came closer.

"Are you looking for Renji or Tsukabishi-san?" Ichigo asked.

"I'm looking for Abarai-senpai!" the boy said. "You are…" He reached out for a handshake.

Ichigo took the boy's hand. "He's working, won't be back for at least four more hours. I'm his neighbor." Ichigo gestured to his own house. "Can I help you with something?"

The boy gave a soft "oh" in disappointment and looked down at his feet.

"I can take a message for you if you like," Ichigo offered, feeling sorry for him.

"Umm, it's okay," the boy said. He turned to look at Renji's front door almost wistfully. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me."

Ichigo was surprised, and then his heart began to beat faster as he realized that this boy must've known Renji from Renji's "previous life", as Ichigo had come to call it. This was a chance not to be missed.

"I'm Kusosaki Ichigo," he said, hoping that the boy would take the hint and introduce himself.

"Ah!" Renji's friend looked flustered. "I'm sorry for being so rude! I'm Yamada Hanatarou! Nice to meet you!" He gave a shy, hasty little bow.

Ichigo pictured this timid little guy walking next to Renji's hulking, scowling figure, and had to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle. "Nice to meet you too, Yamada-san."

Hanatarou's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Call me Hanatarou! Everyone calls me Hanatarou."

"Okay, Hanatarou," Ichigo said. "Do you want to come in to my house? It's hot out here, you can probably use a drink." He looked away for a second, feeling a little guilty. He had an ulterior motive to invite Hanatarou to his house.

 _Information_.

Hanatarou's eyes lit up at the prospect of a cold drink. "If it's not too much trouble," he said, giving Ichigo a small bow.

Ichigo couldn't help wondering how Renji knew the boy; he was so different from Renji that he couldn't imagine them getting along. Nodding to Hanatarou, he led the boy back to his house.

"Thanks," Hanatarou accepted a can of Coke from Ichigo.

They sat at the dining table across from each other. Ichigo let the boy take a few grateful gulps of the soft drink before finally saying, "So, you're Renji's friend."

Hanatarou blushed slightly. "I don't think he thinks of me as a friend," he said hesitantly. He poked the can a few times as though to pick up the courage to go on. "He's more like a senpai. I actually don't know if he remembers me, because we haven't met ever since…ever since the fight."

Ichigo suddenly remembered the rumor Keigo had mentioned.

" _The guy was kicked out of school for fighting._ "

" _He apparently beat up a bunch of kids, some of them even ended up in the hospital!_ "

"What fight?" Ichigo asked, his fingers digging harder into the wooden table surface.

Hanatarou looked uncomfortable, and for a moment Ichigo felt guilty again for wanting to dig information from the boy. But he forced himself to look expectantly at Hanatarou.

"You can probably tell that I'm…I'm the kind of guy who gets bullied a lot," Hanatarou began, looking at Ichigo sheepishly.

Ichigo chuckled and the boy's cheeks reddened even more.

"Well, yeah, I get bullied a lot," Hanatarou continued. "And about half a year ago, Abarai-senpai happened to walk by when I was getting…you know, beaten up." He rolled up his sleeve and showed Ichigo a fresh scar. It looked like a pretty bad knife wound.

"I've never seen anyone so angry." Hanatarou's eyes were wide, as if he was begging Ichigo to believe him even though Ichigo did nothing to indicate that he didn't. "There were five kids, and Abarai-senpai got them all. One second I was curled up in a ball just trying to get through it, then when I opened my eyes again Abarai-senpai was kicking the last guy on the ground. Like, _really_ kicking."

Ichigo swallowed, trying to picture the redhead being so violent.

"That guy had a swollen eye and three broken ribs. The others were…about the same. Two broken noses, I think," Hanatarou said. "That was the last time I saw him. The next day, I heard he got expelled."

Ichigo straightened up. "What?"

Hanatarou's balled up his small fists with a look of indignation. "It's not fair, right? Those guy beat me up all the time and they never get into trouble! I told the teachers that he was saving me but they wouldn't listen! Said that even if it's for self defense, he'd gone overboard." He kicked the table leg and winced. "It's not fair." Hanatarou paused. "It took me a long time to finally track down where he went, and I'm…I just wanted to thank him."

"That sucks," Ichigo said as Hanatarou's shoulders slumped.

So the rumor was true, and Renji had had to transfer to a different school as a result. Was the humiliation of being expelled the reason for his current behavior?

Ichigo suddenly wondered if Hanatarou knew about Renji's tattoos. If he was from "the past", it was possible that he knew. But the thought only stayed in Ichigo's mind for a fleeting second; he'd promised Renji that he wouldn't tell anyone about them. He mustn't risk it, just in case Hanatarou _didn't_ know.

"I need to head back soon, I don't think I can wait for another three hours," Hanatarou said, looking downcast.

Ichigo offered to take a message, and the boy asked for pen and paper. After he was done scribbling, he gave Ichigo the tightly folded piece paper, blushing fiercely.

Even with the heaviness in his heart after hearing Hanatarou's story, Ichigo couldn't help smirking in amusement. There was more than gratitude and admiration here, it seemed. He accepted the message and promised that he'd give it to Renji in the evening.

"Thanks for the drink, Kurosaki-san," Hanatarou said, his words directed at Ichigo but his gaze lingering on his senpai's house.

"You're always welcome here, Hanatarou," Ichigo offered. "And call me Ichigo."

Hanatarou gave him a grateful smile, waved, and jogged away.

* * *

The folded little piece of paper on the desk was getting irresistibly interesting. Ichigo stared at it intently, as though if he looked at it for long enough he would be able to read the words inside. He was itching to know what Hanatarou wrote to Renji, although he didn't understand why.

He'd been sitting at his desk ever since Hanatarou left. His homework was spread in front of him, but they remained untouched. Ichigo hadn't been able to concentrate enough to make any progress on them; his mind constantly wondering between what Keigo said to him and the story about Renji's expulsion from school.

The more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to question his own motivation to get to know his classmate. And the more he questioned himself, the more confused he became, and the more annoyed he felt with himself.

 _I just don't want to see him hurt alone_ , he told himself. _It's just something friends do for each other_.

But was Renji even really a friend?

Feeling more than a little frustrated, Ichigo sighed and decided that this was a mental discussion better done some other time. He was still digesting the information he got from Hanatarou, and his mind was already reeling from all the questions that he wished he could ask. But now, he had a job to do.

For the fifth time that afternoon, he peeked between his curtains to throw a hasty glance at Renji's room. _Only to see if he's home_ , he told himself. He needed to bring Hanatarou's message over and he wanted to do it soon, because he didn't think he could hold his curiosity in check for much longer. So far, though, there had been no sign of the redhead, naked or not.

But this time Ichigo caught sight of movement in the room next door—a flash of red between the blinds. Ichigo's breath caught. _I didn't mean to peep I didn't mean to peep I didn't mean to peep_ , he began to chant inside. He quickly drew his curtains closed. If Renji caught him again, Ichigo would never be able to dig himself out of the mess.

He continued to sit at his desk, his hands idly fiddling with Hanatarou's message slip, then, after a few minutes, he carefully parted the curtains and peeked through the crack to see if he should go over now. There was no movement behind the blinds that he could see.

With a sigh, Ichigo stood up and made his way down the stairs.

It took two rings of the doorbell and almost half a minute of yelling before Ichigo heard the sound of shuffling feet approach the front door of his neighbor's house. The door was yanked open and Renji appeared at the door. He looked taken aback at the sight of Ichigo; an eyebrow arched inquiringly.

"Your friend Hanatarou left you a message," Ichigo said, holding out the folded message to Renji.

The redhead's eyebrows arched even higher at the mention of that name. "Hanatarou?" he echoed, taking the piece of paper from Ichigo.

"Yeah, short, skinny lil' guy, black hair…" Ichigo began.

Renji glared at him. "I know who he is, I'm just surprised to hear his name from your mouth."

Ichigo stuck his hands into his jeans pockets. "He was here to see you, but you weren't home," he said.

Renji gave a low "hmph" sound in his throat. Ichigo supposed it was supposed to be an acknowledgement of some sort that the redhead had heard him, but now Ichigo wasn't sure what to say next. Should he mention that he'd heard about the fight? Would Hanatarou get into trouble?

"I take it that you talked to him, then," Renji said evenly. His little friend's message was still folded neatly; obviously he had no intention to read it in front of Ichigo.

Ichigo couldn't tell what Renji was feeling from the tone of his voice. The redhead's facial expression was guarded—as always—and his low voice gave nothing away. Ichigo hesitated for a second, then decided to be honest. "Yes," he said. "I invited him into my house for a drink." And then, still feeling guilty about the breach of Renji's privacy, he felt compelled to add, "It was really hot outside."

"Uh huh."

Ichigo felt Renji's eyes pierce through his skull, and he struggled to maintain eye contact with the redhead. He tried again to think of something intelligent to say, but he couldn't think of any, so he decided it was time for him to scram. But, just as he was going to make a move to leave, Renji gave a tired sigh and said, "Come in."

Surprised, Ichigo simply stared at the redhead in silence. Then, after a few seconds, he finally stepped through the door that Renji held open for him. He followed Renji, fully expecting to be showed to the living room, but he was surprised again when Renji began to walk up the stairs.

"You want something to drink?" Renji asked, propping his bedroom door open.

"Do you have Coke?" Ichigo replied, scanning the small room beyond. It felt kind of strange to be in the space that he had been looking at from afar.

Renji shrugged. "Think so." He gestured for Ichigo to go inside before jogging back downstairs, presumably to retrieve the drink.

Ichigo turned a full circle, his eyes slowly taking in all the little details in the room. As he had already seen from his room, Renji's bedroom was sparsely decorated; the only thing that caught his attention was a coil of what looked like dark brown rope hanging on the wall. He walked towards it and leaned forward to take a closer look.

"Don't touch Zabimaru."

Ichigo spun around, startled. Renji stood at the doorway with several cans of drinks in his arms and a scowl on his face.

"Zabimaru?" Ichigo asked. _Renji_ names _his deco_?

"It's a whip," Renji said, throwing a can at Ichigo, who caught it deftly. Ichigo's eyes widened when he read the label.

"Wait. This is not Coke," Ichigo said, staring down at the can of beer in his hand.

Renji shrugged and sat down on the edge of his mattress, not bothering to offer Ichigo a seat. "Close enough." There was a pop and a hiss, and then Renji took a sip from his own can of beer.

Ichigo opened his mouth to say "But I'm underaged", but one look at the challenging gaze thrown his way made him swallow the words.

"So how much did the kid tell you?" Renji asked after taking another healthy swig from the can.

Ichigo leaned back against the wall and hesitantly opened the can. He took a deep breath, and then took his first sip of alcohol. _Yuck_. He wanted so badly to put it down; the liquid tasted bitter and felt horrible going down his throat. _Why the hell would anyone enjoy this?_ But he couldn't, not when Renji was drinking it like it was water.

"You took out a bunch of guys and saved him," Ichigo said, choosing his words carefully.

Renji snorted.

"If it's any consolation, I think it's unfair, how you were treated," Ichigo offered. Despite himself, he took another sip and grimaced.

"Whatever, it's not like it mattered." The redhead tilted his head back and drained his beer, and then immediately reached for a second can.

It was like a silent dare, and Ichigo felt his competitive streak kick in. He took another deep breath and drank from his can of beer, willing himself to swallow the bitter liquid without gagging. He wasn't even aware that he had closed his eyes until he suddenly opened them to see Renji smirking at him.

"Take it easy, kid," Renji said.

"I'm not a kid," Ichigo said automatically. He licked his lips, wishing that he could get rid of the nasty aftertaste in his mouth. It seemed impossible, but he was beginning to feel a ball of heat spreading from his chest to his limbs and up his neck.

Renji appeared to have noticed Ichigo's expression, because he added, "Don't force yourself, kid. This is not a competition." Even so, he continued to smirk. It was obvious that the orange-haired boy was uncomfortable, and for some reason it gave Renji a rush of satisfaction.

Ichigo immediately straightened up in indignation. "I'm not forcing myself."

"Whatever." Renji took another generous swig from his can. This wasn't the first time he drank, although to be honest, he didn't drink very often. It just struck him that it'd be fun to see how Ichigo would react, and so far it was pretty entertaining. He was actually feeling rather annoyed that Ichigo knew yet another piece of his private life; the guy was sticking his nose deeper and deeper.

When he said he'd "let" Ichigo "help" him, he hadn't seriously expected Ichigo to find out so much about him. He didn't like it, but he couldn't take his words back. Morbid as it was, watching Ichigo go through this little bit of suffering made him feel better.

Before they knew it, Ichigo was halfway through his fourth can. He was beginning to feel fuzzy, his entire face hot, even the tip of his ears. He was sure that he was flushed in the face—damn the stupid Asian glow thing.

"You should stop, man," Renji slurred, going through his sixth can himself. This was the most alcohol he'd had in his life yet, and somewhere in the back of his head he thought of alcohol poisoning. Were they getting there? He was too buzzed to truly care.

Somewhere during the third can, Ichigo had left the wall, and was now sitting in Renji's chair, rolling the chair back and forth absent-mindedly. The wheels of the chair squeaked.

"Stop the fucking noise," Renji grumbled.

Ichigo chuckled. It was funny how red Renji was turning too, and he wondered if it was possible for the redhead's face to turn into the same shade of his hair. Now _that_ would be an amusing sight. A red, glowing pineapple. Yeah, _pineapple_ , Ichigo remembered vaguely that that's the stupid nickname that Keigo used.

 _Damn, even his eyes are kinda red_ , Ichigo thought, looking at Renji. Was that normal? His eyes went to Renji's mouth—the lips were red, too, and they were moist from beer. It was a nice shade of red, Ichigo noted.

"The hell you lookin' at?" Renji drawled.

Ichigo grinned. "Nothing."

Renji shot him a glare, but didn't ask him again. The can in his hand was becoming light—almost done. He glanced at his desk. One last can left.

"I don't think you should," Ichigo said, his eyes still glued to those enticing red lips. He rolled the chair forward to be closer to his classmate.

Renji smirked. "I can handle it," he said, not really meaning it. He was buzzed, but he wasn't out of his mind. He knew he shouldn't have that seventh beer.

Ichigo made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. He was a little further gone than the slightly more experienced redhead; all of a sudden everything seemed extra funny, especially Renji's hair. The shock of hair that made up the high pony tail was sticking out in all sorts of different directions. _Pineapple. Pineapple pineapple pineapple_.

 _I can fix that_ , Ichigo thought. He move the chair in front of Renji, the wheels protesting as they were dragged along the floor.

"What are you doing?" Renji asked, eyeing Ichigo apprehensively as the teen stood up on unsteady legs.

Ichigo didn't reply. Instead, he reached over Renji's head and went straight for the offending ponytail. He held his can of beer precariously with his thumb and forefinger, and then with his free hand and the remaining fingers below the can, he began to tug at the hair tie.

"Oi!" Renji shook his head from side to side to get his hair out of Ichigo's reach. "What the fuck?"

The abrupt movement knocked Ichigo's hand off balance, and his beer tipped to the side. A small trickle of the liquid spilled from the mouth of the can and dribbled onto Renji's hair and shoulder. Surprised, the redhead yelped and jumped to his feet; except, the alcohol had affected _his_ balance as well, and he stumbled and practically crashed into Ichigo. The beer can slipped completely out of Ichigo's hand as he scrambled to remain on his feet, but Renji's weight was too much, and both of them fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Renji landed on his back with a loud "oof", and Ichigo landed on his shoulder before Renji could recover his breath.

"Oww," Ichigo groaned.

"Fucker, you landed on _me_ and you're complaining?" Renji hissed as his shoulder and bicep throbbed under Ichigo's head.

Ichigo made an incoherent sound and rolled to his side, and found himself staring into a pair of wide, slightly glazed red eyes. Scratch that—the pupils were a warm brown, but the surrounding sclera was reddish, and Ichigo was so close that he could see the tiny little blood vessels in the eyes. It was kind of creepy; Ichigo's gaze quickly left the scary eyes and traveled to the much more appealing lips and stayed there.

"What'd you say?" Renji mumbled, suddenly feeling tired and way too lazy to get up, even though the stupid idiot's weight was starting to hurt his arm.

" _If I didn't know you better, I'd say there's something going on between you two_ ," Keigo's voice said in Ichigo's head. Was there? Ichigo's mind was swimming, but he couldn't help remembering what his friend said earlier that day. Was this why he just couldn't stop staring at Renji's lips? Was he truly trying to get to know the redhead because he simply wanted to help him, and not because what he'd been attracted to through the window?

 _Yeah, I'm attracted to his body_ , Ichigo's inner voice was extra blunt under the influence of alcohol. Under normal circumstances Ichigo would've balked, but now he was lying right next to Renji, _on top_ of the guy's bicep. This was the closest he'd ever been to the redhead.

 _So, so close_.

Before Ichigo knew what he was doing, he closed the distance between their faces and pressed his lips against the ones that he'd been staring at for what seemed like forever. He breathed in the strong smell of beer and parted his own lips to slide his tongue along Renji's.

Renji's eyes widened in shock, and he stayed frozen in place as Ichigo plowed forward and deepened the kiss. Renji felt his classmate's tongue drag along his lips and prod roughly between them, trying to force its way into Renji's closed mouth.

"Mmmph whtfk!" Renji's words were completely muffled as he tried his best to keep his mouth tightly shut. But alas, his attempt of speech was his mistake, and Ichigo took the opening to pry his lips open and slip his tongue inside.

Renji kicked and struggled, but Ichigo's mouth was hot, impossibly hot, and so soft and moist, and despite himself, Renji found his own protests weaken when he felt Ichigo's tongue press firmly against his. He gave Ichigo one last half-hearted push, and closed his eyes.

It's been so long since Renji had had another person's body against his own, and Ichigo was warm—maddeningly hot, even. Renji felt and heard Ichigo's hand search for purchase on the floor, and then suddenly he was rolled onto his back with Ichigo lying on top of him.

Ichigo pulled away just long enough to balance himself better, and then he ducked down again. Renji didn't bother protesting; he parted his lips willingly and immediately felt Ichigo's tongue dart into his mouth briefly before the boy nipped gently on his lower lip. Unconsciously, he let out a low moan from the back of his throat, and Ichigo groaned in response. Renji felt the teen shift his weight; an unmistakable bulge brushed against his hips, and his breath caught.

 _The fuck am I doing?_ The thought fluttered through Renji's mind, but it didn't remain there long enough for him to take it seriously. He was never one to think before action anyway—which was what got him into this situation in the first place. And damn, Ichigo could kiss. He was surprisingly aggressive, but Renji had gotten used to it by now, and he'd even begun to push back, to try to take control of their kiss.

They were both getting sweaty inside their clothes; Renji was still clad in his stifling turtleneck shirt while Ichigo was in a regular t-shirt, both wearing jeans that fit them snugly. The tightness of their pants did nothing to conceal the hardness that were beginning to grow, and they unconsciously began to rub against each other, the pleasure from the friction driving their breaths heavier.

Ichigo left Renji's mouth and went to his earlobe, then jaw, and then, feeling bold, he slipped a hand under Renji's shirt. He ran his palm over Renji's sweat-slicked abdomen and chest, admiring the firm, muscled torso that could only come from exercise and a lot of hard work.

Renji was vaguely aware of his shirt getting hiked up as Ichigo's hand roamed higher; Ichigo's palm was smooth, not like his own calloused ones. And then, just as he was about to sigh in pleasure under Ichigo's touch, he heard the teen say in his ear, "Your tattoos look so hot on you."

" _Your tattoos look so hot on you, babe_. _"_

 _His_ voice suddenly rang in Renji's ears, and he snapped out of his drunken stupor, the building lust in his groin gone. With a growl, he shoved Ichigo off of him, applying so much force that Ichigo landed a couple of feet away.

"Out," Renji said, standing up and pulling his shirt down.

Ichigo lay on the floor, stunned and confused as he looked up at the redhead's furious eyes.

"Get. Out." Renji pointed to the door, his arm trembling from his effort to reign in his anger. "Get the fuck out before I throw you out myself."

The realization of what had just happened slapped Ichigo in the face; the fact that he had given in to his impulse and the fact that Renji was now ordering him to leave drained the blood from his face, and he got to his feet, wobbling slightly as he struggled to regain his sense of balance.

Renji remained rooted on the spot as Ichigo walked to the door, his eyes fixed on Ichigo's face in a murderous glare. Ichigo had received his fair share of glares from the redhead, but none shook him like this one. He took one last look at Renji and left, his face burning with humiliation and horror.

The room fell silent save for the sound of Renji's ragged breaths. He couldn't care less why Ichigo had kissed him, all he felt now was pure rage. How _dare_ he say those same words? How _dare_ he drag up the memories that he'd had been working so hard to forget?

* * *

**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

Renji heard the front door slam downstairs; the sound was so loud that it reverberated through the walls and seemed to echo long after Ichigo had left. The boy had run; his rapid footsteps, though faint, reached Renji's ears.

The redhead stood in front of his desk, his arms extended stiffly and resting palms-down on the wooden surface. He was no longer shaking; in its place was an unnatural stillness in his lean frame. His breathing was deliberately slow; each breath taken long and deep.

Renji kept his eyes tightly clenched shut even after he knew that he had regained control of his anger.

He'd lost it. Completely flipped out. And utterly confused.

Once his fury began to ebb, his mind made space for other things, such as why Ichigo had just kissed him. Was it purely an alcohol-induced urge, or was there something more to it?

Renji suspected it was the latter. The passion with which Ichigo had tackled him was too strong for it to be a spontaneous action. Renji was no stranger to kisses, yet he had to admit that that was one of the best he'd experienced, even if he had been a reluctant participant in the beginning.

It could've gone beyond a kiss, Renji was certain; he could almost still feel Ichigo's warm breath in his ear, on his neck, _in_ his mouth. He wasn't sure if Ichigo truly realized what he was doing, or whether Ichigo even knew what his actions meant.

If the kiss was a slip of self control on Ichigo's part, Renji now understood why the boy had been so anxious to help him. He actually felt relieved; it was a better, more acceptable explanation than having him doing it out of pity, which had been Renji's suspicion all along.

After taking several more deep breaths, Renji finally cracked his eyes open, and was immediately greeted by the little piece of paper lying between his palms. Hanatarou's message. In the midst of his annoyance and anger, he had completely forgotten about it. He picked it up and unfolded it with a feeling of trepidation.

 _Abarai-senpai,_ the message said in neat handwriting. _I just wanted to thank you again for saving me. I'm really sorry that you had to leave, it's all my fault and I couldn't do anything. I'm sorry. I wish I could've said this to you in person. Maybe next time._ The note ended with _Sincerely, Hanatarou._

Renji couldn't help chuckling dryly. " _You had to leave_ " was probably the most subtle way of describing his expulsion from school, not to mention leaving his hometown and friends. But, truth be told, at that time, he had felt nothing. His father had been furious at the school; it didn't help that the school's decision was biased because the father of one of the boys Renji had beaten up was on the school board. But after the aggressive approach failed to overturn his son's expulsion, Tessai had broken down.

Renji gritted his teeth at the memory of his father practically on his knees, begging the headmaster to let Renji remain at the school. He had yanked his dad to his feet and dragged him out of the school office, slamming the door behind him in disgust. Renji didn't look back even once, and he didn't stop walking, his hand gripping his father's arm tightly, until they got home.

There, sitting across from each other at the dining table, Renji had told his father that he wanted to quit school. After a few seconds of stunned silence, Tessai hit his son for the first time in his life—a fierce, stinging slap across Renji's cheek that snapped the boy's face to the side. As Renji sat at the table stiffly, his father stood there with a look of horror on his face, his hand held away from his body as though it had acted on its own. Renji had been debating whether to yell or simply walk away when he caught a single tear slide down his father's cheek.

That had floored him completely. Tsukabishi Tessai did not cry—he was the strongest and the most hardened man Renji ever knew in his life. And yet there he was, reddened eyes brimming with tears of anger and disappointment. Renji had felt like the lowest of the low and, despite himself, promised that he would graduate from high school somewhere else. Where, he couldn't care less, as long as it was far, far away from _him._

Hanatarou's message became a crumpled mess in Renji's fist. Damn Ichigo, and damn Hanatarou, for bringing back all these memories—just when he was feeling proud of himself for being able to suppress them so well, too.

Now, the dreaded images flooded his head.

 _Class ended early, so he thought he'd stop by his boyfriend's apartment to show him the new tattoo that he'd just gotten over the weekend to celebrate their second anniversary, maybe even for a quickie if he was in the mood. Renji let himself in with the spare key, and was immediately greeted with sounds_ — _sounds that made his growing erection wilt in his pants._

 _Treading softly, he made his way slowly towards the bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, and the sounds were coming from there. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he got nearer; he could recognize one of the voices_ — _it was one that frequently whispered into his ears or breathed sensually against his neck._

 _Renji walked almost trance-like, not too different from a typical scene in a horror movie_ _where the character_ knew _he shouldn't go into the dark room but did it anyway_ — _moving_ _gingerly, he eased the door open with a foot. Even the sounds could not prepare him for the pain that twisted his stomach the moment he set eyes on the figure on the bed. His boyfriend was moaning, cheeks flushed, dark lashes hiding his half-lidded eyes as he rolled his hips, thrusting feverishly into a body beneath him. Renji caught a tuft of blond hair peeking out from the pillows_ — _the same ones that he'd laid his head on for countless nights._

 _He must've gasped out loud, or perhaps his breathing became heavy, because all of a sudden his boyfriend was scrambling out of bed. He tried to talk to Renji, but Renji kept walking backwards, moving farther and farther away from the man who had betrayed him. Even so, he still saw the other man, who had sat up and was looking at him with a look of guilt on his face. Blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin_ — _Renji would forever remember that face._

_At least the guy had the decency to look ashamed._

_Renji had fled, ignoring the desperate pleas from his boyfriend; he ran and ran, his vision getting blur as the weight of the betrayal finally began to sink in. He had no idea where he was or where he was heading; he just ran. And he would've just continued running if not for the pitiful screams coming from a back alley._

_He stopped. The screams were intermixed with whimpers and laughter; he didn't have to be a genius to figure out what was going on. He stepped into the dimly-lit alley, his hands balled into fists at his sides, bracing for what he was certain he would find there._

_Sure enough, a group of five teenagers_ — _all students in his school_ — _stood in a circle around a boy, who was lying on his side on the street. The boy was sniffling, eyes tightly shut, a trembling arm clutching his stomach as he drew his knees into his chest. The bullies towered over him, teeth bared in wide grins._

_They looked up as the loose pebbles on the ground gave Renji's presence away. Renji didn't bother replying to their taunts when they challenged him; he just let his body do the talking. He heard every satisfying crunch of broken bones and every pained cry, and they drove him even wilder, the adrenaline rush and stinging on his knuckles serving as an anesthetic for the throbbing pain that was beginning to grow in his chest._

_The young boy was almost delirious when Renji picked him up from the ground. He was badly injured, but his wounds were far from fatal. Renji dropped him off at a nearby clinic and left, but not before the boy caught his jacket in a small fist and whispered a hoarse "thank you", and then he managed to murmur his own name before passing out. His voice was weak, barely audible, but Renji remembered the name._

Renji stared down at the carefully-written note and sighed. Not for the first time, he asked himself if he would've done the same if he hadn't been blinded with rage and humiliation at the time. And like each and every time, he didn't have a clear answer.

Of course Ichigo couldn't have known that part of his history, but Renji had lashed out at him anyway, simply because he blurted out the same words that _he_ used to say. Renji couldn't help it; the image that Ichigo had triggered was too much to bear. He'd seen them again—those lust-ridden, heavy-lidded eyes that used to make him ache with need only served to remind him of what they had shared, and what he had lost.

Renji sighed as he recalled how he'd kicked Ichigo out earlier; he could only imagine how the teen was feeling now. Ichigo should be hating his guts, but somehow Renji knew that that wasn't how Ichigo operated—he was just too nice for his own good.

Renji plopped down on his chair and rubbed his face with a tired groan. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on as his inner turmoil gradually ceased. He knew that he should apologize, but he didn't know how. Turning around to face the window, he looked out into Ichigo's bedroom—there was no movement that he could see behind the slightly drawn curtains.

"Fuck," the redhead muttered under his breath. As he thought about Ichigo, his fingers went to his lips, his mind wandering back to their brief but fiery kiss.

To his own surprise, he realized that he missed it.

* * *

Ichigo clutched the pillow to his chest and swallowed the bile that threatened to rise from the back of his throat. His stomach clenched, and he felt like throwing up. He was still light-headed and hazy from all the beer that he'd consumed, but he knew that wasn't the reason for his current condition.

It was humiliation. His face burned and his eyes stung; he had never felt so humiliated in his life. It was already difficult enough to believe that he'd given in to his impulse and practically pounced on the guy, but to be rejected like this—he felt as though his pride had been wrenched from his gut.

One second he was at the top of the world when he felt the redhead respond to him, and the next he was sprawled on the floor on his ass. Cliché as it may sound, if looks could kill, Ichigo would've shriveled up and died under Renji's piercing glare. The first emotion that registered in his mind at the time had been confusion: did he do something wrong? Renji had seemed receptive to his kiss after the initial shock dissipated, and he was _hard_ ; Ichigo had felt it against his thigh.

So what happened? Ichigo didn't understand.

And then he was hit with shame—sheer, utter shame that he had taken advantage of his friend while they were both intoxicated. He knew it was a bad idea to drink, he _knew_ it, yet he hadn't had the self discipline to control himself. He had acted like a child; letting his competitive nature overtake his common sense, and now he was paying for it.

_Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid._

But it had felt so fucking good. Perhaps that was the problem; it had felt so good that, for a moment, Ichigo had truly believed that he stood a chance with Renji. He knew now that he had been lying to himself all this while, denying the true reason he was drawn to the redhead in the first place. He had convinced himself that he was just being a concerned neighbor, a well-meaning classmate just wanting to coax Renji out of his shell.

But in the end, it all boiled down to one thing. He was simply attracted to the boy whom he'd spied changing, the subject of his dirty fantasies and lewd dreams. He realized now that he was nothing but a perverted, selfish person.

Before he could stop himself, Ichigo let out a muffled whimper, his mouth and nose pressed tightly into the pillow, which had become warm from his own body heat. Despite himself, he was reminded of the body that was pinned beneath him mere minutes ago. Renji had felt so warm—his mouth, his hands, his breath, his skin...

By the time he realized what he was doing, he was almost completely hard again, his lust rekindled by the memory of everything that he'd seen and felt—Renji's bare chest, his swirling tattoos, the feel of his toned muscles under his fingers, the warm, welcoming wetness of his lips and tongue. Ichigo felt disgusted at himself, but he couldn't help it; it was like his body had a mind of its own.

With another choked whimper, he slid the pillow between his legs and moved his hips, grinding slowly but firmly against it. This was nothing compared to the pleasure he'd felt when Renji rubbed against him, but at this moment he'd settle for anything. He gasped, his mind filled with images of the redhead in various stages of undress. His eyes began to sting as his cheeks flushed with a mixture of need and shame.

 _I'm disgusting_.

But he couldn't stop himself. His hips was moving at a feverish pace now, his breath coming fast and heavy as the tension in his groin built, egged on by the friction between his flesh and the pillow. And then, with a soft cry, the tension snapped, and he shuddered, spilling himself into his underwear.

 _I'm so disgusting_ , Ichigo thought again, oblivious to the hot tears that was leaking between his tightly shut eyelids. He swallowed a sob as he felt the last of his dignity left him.

It didn't take long for sleep to claim the exhausted boy, and he slipped into merciful unconsciousness as the sun began to set. With his bed hidden from the window, his bedroom appeared empty to the redhead who was currently peering through the window from the house next door.

* * *

The awkward tension saturating the air around the two teenagers in the classroom the next day was almost a tangible force. Both desperately wanted to talk to the other—for different reasons—yet neither knew where to begin, and so, neither spoke.

Renji stole brief glances at the orange-haired boy out of the corner of his eye throughout the day. Ichigo's shoulders were hunched over with what Renji thought was a defeated air; and with every passing second, Renji's guilt grew.

He had barely slept last night; the hours spent tossing and turning under the covers instead, his head filled with regret. He regretted pulling the childish prank to get Ichigo to drink out of spite, and even more so, he regretted pushing Ichigo away the way he did. He should've been mature enough to differentiate between Ichigo and _him_ ; he needed to move on, to release himself from the clutches of the past that he could not change.

When the last bell finally rang, they stood up and got out from their seats at the same time. They ended up bumping into each other as both made a move towards the narrow lane between their desks.

"S-sorry," Ichigo mumbled, stepping aside.

Their eyes met, and suddenly, the silence became unbearable.

 _You can do this_ , Ichigo told himself. He sucked in a deep breath and opened his mouth—but nothing came out; his voice simply refused to leave his throat. Heat began to creep up his neck.

Renji had also opened his mouth but stopped when he saw Ichigo's lips part. Much to his chagrin, the boy closed his mouth wordlessly and looked away. Renji saw the pink tint that was spreading in Ichigo's cheeks and felt a lump lodge in his throat. He needed to apologize, but to do it properly he'd have to tell Ichigo the entire story behind his reaction, and the classroom wasn't exactly his ideal choice of location.

"Walk with me?" Renji found himself saying, his voice low, as if he was afraid to be overheard.

Ichigo turned to him with a startled look on his face. After a few seconds, he finally nodded and gestured for Renji to walk first, and then he followed.

They walked in silence down the relatively empty hallway—most of the students were already in the compound, and those who still lingered around paid them no heed. After their brief verbal exchange in the classroom, the tension between them had dissipated somewhat, and now that Ichigo knew that Renji was still willing to talk to him, he was surprised to find that he didn't really mind the silence. It felt almost…comfortable.

Ichigo risked a sidelong glance at his companion. Renji had his hands deep in his jeans pocket, his slouchy school bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, his neck completely covered in his signature turtleneck top. Ichigo swallowed as he remembered the scalding hot skin hiding below the fabric.

They crossed the threshold of the school gates and turned left in the direction of their homes. Renji exhaled and pulled his hands out of his pockets, hooking his thumbs around the belt loops. As he listened to their synced footsteps, he licked his lips and looked at his feet, trying to summon the courage to launch into the story that he wished he didn't have to tell.

But before he could begin, a deep, smooth voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Renji."

Ichigo felt the redhead freeze next to him, and he stopped. The voice belonged to a man standing by the side of the street a few feet in front of them. Ichigo couldn't help raising his eyebrows as he took in the man's appearance—inky black hair stood up in jagged spikes on his head, the tanned skin on his face marred with three thin scars running down along one cheek all the way from underneath his bangs down to his jaw.

When Renji didn't respond, the man left the wall he was leaning on and strolled slowly towards them. Ichigo drew in a sharp breath as his face came into full view—a blue strip decorated the other cheek and the bridge of his nose, and, most priceless of all, the number "69" marked the cheek right underneath the blue strip.

Ichigo hadn't the faintest idea who this mysterious person was, but he could sense Renji's hackles rise as the man came nearer. Whoever this was, it was clearly someone Renji knew, and Renji was obviously not happy to see him.

 _Was this someone involved in the fight that got Renji expelled?_ Ichigo frowned and turned to look at the redhead; he was immediately taken aback at what he saw.

Renji's eyes were narrowed into slits, and the muscles in his jaw rippled, his entire body radiating raw fury.

"Shuuhei," Ichigo heard the redhead say.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

When the man with the scarred face finally pulled up directly in front of them, Ichigo was surprised to find himself looking into a pair of warm slate-grey eyes. He felt slightly ashamed, because he had expected the guy to look tougher and meaner, given his bad-boy looks and all. Up close, the man didn't look that much older after all; in fact, Ichigo suspected that they could very well be of the same age.

Shuuhei's eyes lingered only briefly on Ichigo's face, during which he actually gave the orange-haired boy a small smile, before they settled on Renji.

"Hi," Shuuhei said. His voice was low, and Ichigo thought he detected a hint of nervousness in it.

Renji continued to glare. "What are you doing here?"

Ichigo felt the tension thicken around the three of them, and he was painfully aware that he was the outsider.

"I just want to —" Shuuhei began, but he was cut off before he could finish his sentence.

"I don't give a fuck about what you want," Renji spat, his tone sharper than Ichigo had ever heard. "Get the fuck out of my sight."

Shuuhei looked stricken, and Ichigo cringed unconsciously. "Renji, please," Shuuhei pleaded, blushing slightly. "You have no idea how hard I've been looking for you, after you left so suddenly, I —"

Ichigo heard a sharp intake of breath before Renji said, through gritted teeth from the sound of it, "Don't you _dare_ —"

_Time to get his ass out of there._

Ichigo cleared his throat, and the other two teenagers whipped around to stare at him. "I'm gonna…uh…go," he said, feeling awkward as hell. He had no part in this, and definitely did not want to hear any more than he already had.

Renji's piercing glare softened just a tiny bit, which, Ichigo supposed, was the closest to an apology for the situation as he was going to get from the redhead. Giving Shuuhei a hasty glance, Ichigo walked away, feeling so curious that he thought his head would explode, and not to mention annoyed at Shuuhei's impeccable timing.

Now, his conversation with Renji would have to wait, and to be honest, Ichigo didn't know how long long he could last under all that suspense.

Shuuhei watched the orange-haired teen leave, his chest tightening with a mixture of relief and guilt for practically chasing Renji's friend away. He was glad that the boy had the tact to give them their much-needed privacy; it was difficult enough for him to bring up the courage to see his ex, and this stranger's presence only made it worse.

He wasn't the least surprised by Renji's reaction; he'd deserved it, after all. In fact, he should be thankful that Renji even spoke to him at all. Once the other boy was out of earshot, he turned back to Renji and pressed on, his words gushing out in a determined effort to finish speaking before Renji could cut him off again. "I'm really sorry, Renji, I've been meaning to say this…." He balled his fists as he forced himself to look into the slitted eyes in front of him. "I know I have no right to come here after what I did, but…when Yamada-kun said he found you, I couldn't resist…"

So _that's_ how he knew to come here, Renji thought as he eyed his former lover. This was the first time he saw Shuuhei after he walked in on the man. The bastard hadn't changed one bit aside from the ridiculous, obviously-new tattoo on his cheek. Shuuhei was right when he said that he had no right to come here, but here he was, looking every bit as gorgeous as Renji remembered.

Renji swallowed around a lump that had formed in his throat. He was furious — at Shuuhei for showing up like this, but most of all, at himself. The sudden gush of warmth that flooded his insides was unmistakable; he had failed, thoroughly and completely failed. Even after all the pain that he'd gone through, and despite his efforts to erase those memories and feelings within himself, the mere sight of Hisagi Shuuhei stung like salt water on a freshly re-opened wound and made him melt in a way he didn't want to. He couldn't believe it; he thought he'd managed to convert all of that into hatred for the man— and he had, to a certain extent — but now that Shuuhei was standing in front of him in the flesh, he knew he'd failed. He had not healed one bit.

He was so angry, so frustrated that he wanted to scream, but he didn't. Instead, he just stood there, his body shaking slightly from his effort to keep himself still and on his feet.

How had it come to this? Not for the first time since that painful moment more than six months ago, Renji found himself wondering. They'd been the perfect couple — or so he'd thought, along with everyone else around them — the brain and the brawn of their high school. Shuuhei was smart, his IQ score high enough to qualify for a school for the gifted, yet he remained humble and down-to-earth, and chose to stay at a regular school. Renji, on the other hand, was athletic, excelling in every sport he got his hands on, bringing in award after award for the school. They were as different as the moon and the sun, yet they were drawn to each other like two sides of a magnet. It wasn't love at first sight or anything particularly romantic; they just bonded as they grew up together as classmates all the way since elementary school. By the time they recognized their feelings for what it was, they were already well into their mid-teens.

Yet, Shuuhei had ended up doing the unthinkable.

"Leave me alone, Shuuhei," Renji finally said, suddenly feeling tired under the weight of unwanted memories and emotions.

Shuuhei reached out to grab his ex's hand, but managed to catch himself at the last minute. "I just...wanted to say I'm sorry."

Renji chuckled humorlessly. The idea of a verbal apology for such an act was laughable; he couldn't imagine Shuuhei actually believing that it would make any difference besides being an insult.

"I know," Shuuhei murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I know it's useless."

Something in Shuuhei's tone twisted Renji's gut, and the redhead felt a fresh wave of anger ripple through his veins. "You're right," he snapped, deciding that it was time to end this pointless conversation. "It's useless, so do me a favor and leave."

There was a long moment of silence before Shuuhei finally slumped his shoulders in defeat. But still he remained rooted on the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from the friend whom he'd been searching for over the past few months.

In the end, it was Renji who moved first. Pulling himself up to his full height, he rolled his eyes at Shuuhei and walked away while Shuuhei stared at his back helplessly.

* * *

When Renji got home that day, he did something that he never expected he would do. After tossing his bag carelessly on the floor, he went into his father's room and carried the full length mirror that was propped against one wall into his own room.

It had been more than six months since Renji last looked at his own body properly in a mirror. It was weird, looking at it again after so long. The tattoos were jagged and arranged symmetrically over his chest and arms, the lines sharp and neat.

Renji traced the patch on his left chest right where his heart was. _That_ had been for their first kiss. It had been a clumsy, rather awkward affair, since they were both inexperienced and young at the time. They'd been studying, he remembered, studying together in Shuuhei's living room. His parents were both working, and the boys had the entire house to themselves.

They were pouring over the chemistry periodic table, their heads so close that their hair brushed against each other. And then, somehow, they happened to look up at the same time. It was nothing spectacular; they'd simply leaned closer and closer, and then, almost experimentally, their lips met. Renji remembered laughing into Shuuhei's mouth, and then suddenly he was crawling over the coffee table over to Shuuhei's side and they'd ended up on the carpeted floor. There was plenty of tongue and even more saliva — rather gross in retrospect — but it had been memorable. Two weeks after that, they strolled into a tattoo parlor near their school, and the rest was history.

His mouth curled up unconsciously at the memory, and his palm moved over to his right chest to a patch that mirrored the one on his left. _That_ was for their first time in bed, where they'd given each other their virginity. It was — again, in retrospect — quite messy, because all they knew was what they read in magazines and what they saw in porn, and seriously, watching was much easier than actually doing it in real life. Shuuhei had bought lube and condoms — that was a funny story in itself, and had been very, very careful, but it still hurt like hell at first. After fumbling around for a good half hour trying to find a more comfortable position — not to mention throwing in a lot of kissing and groping to serve as distraction, Shuuhei had managed to find Renji's sweet spot by sheer luck and neither of them lasted very long after that.

Renji closed his eyes and exhaled, his head throbbing in time to his rapid heartbeat. It was times like this when he almost wished that he hadn't stopped by Shuuhei's apartment that fateful afternoon. At the thought, his blood immediately began to boil again, and then, with a growl of frustration, he sat up abruptly and pulled on a fresh turtleneck shirt, covering his body once more.

He _would not_ let his effort be for nought. The whole reason he had packed up and left his hometown so suddenly was to avoid the temptation to take Shuuhei back; it had always been a precarious battle between his desire for the man and his pride and principles, and he had no intention to let the scale tip in the favor of what he had been working so hard to stop.

* * *

"Which part of _leave me the fuck alone_ don't you understand?" Renji hissed into Shuuhei's face when the teen approached him again the next day.

Ichigo stood a few feet away, torn between walking away and staying. Shuuhei had been waiting in the shade under the tree right outside the school compound, and Renji had gotten riled up the moment he set eyes on the dark-haired teen. Ichigo wanted to leave them alone like the day before, but his morbid sense of curiosity glued his body to the spot.

Shuuhei flicked a quick glance in Ichigo's direction before whispering, " _Please_ , I'm begging you…just give me a few minutes..."

"It's. Not. Happening. Get that into your stubborn skull and get the fuck out of here!" Renji spat. Last night's "reminiscence" had put him in a very, very bad mood.

"Renji —" Shuuhei began, but the redhead simply pushed past him.

When Renji realized that Ichigo was still frozen in place, he turned around and glared at him. "You comin' or what?"

Ichigo snapped out of it and jogged to catch up with the redhead. He was still unsure of what was going on between Shuuhei and Renji, but he had noticed by now that the hostility was pretty much one-sided. He felt bad for the guy, although he suspected that Renji probably had a good reason to be so pissed at him. He wished he knew what the whole fiasco was about, but he had a feeling Renji wasn't going to tell him any time soon. He'd just have to figure it out on his own.

Shuuhei frowned as the two boys rounded the corner and disappeared from his sight. He had no problem facing his ex-boyfriend's fury, but he didn't appreciate having an audience. Looking around, he realized with dismay that the orange-haired kid wasn't the only one gawking at the scene; there were several girls standing by the gate, looking at him with openly-curious eyes, and there was an old man sitting on a bench a little further away. His face was turned away right now, but Shuuhei could've sworn that he was looking in his direction just a split second ago.

Obviously, trying to the catch the redhead outside his school was not such a great idea after all.

* * *

Renji was surprised when Shuuhei didn't show up the next day, and the day after next, and the day after that. He was mostly relieved, but he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't feel disappointed. Shuuhei had seemed so sincere, even frantic; Renji actually felt kind of insulted that his ex had apparently given up after just two tries. What a joke.

He had a shift at the ramen shop after school that day, so he walked home alone after work, smelling like a simmering pot of garlic and sesame.

He had been ready to tell Ichigo about Shuuhei and the story of his tattoos until Shuuhei showed up. Now, with his mind freshly scrambled, he wasn't up for the conversation anymore. He needed to settle this problem, to set his mind straightened out before he begin exploring this new thing with Ichigo; it didn't feel right to start anything under the current circumstances. But he couldn't exactly explain all this to Ichigo without giving too much away, so he could only watch and cringe inwardly whenever he caught the look of anticipation and disappointment in the boy's eyes. He knew Ichigo was waiting for him.

He had just entered his house and was about to go upstairs for a shower when the doorbell suddenly rang. Without thinking, he answered the door — and found himself staring into a pair of wide grey eyes.

"I thought I made it pretty clear that I don't want to see you," Renji growled as he eyed his former lover up and down.

The raven-haired teen sucked in a deep breath but didn't look surprised, obviously expecting a greeting like that. "Give me a second chance, just one more chance," Shuuhei said softly. "I promise I'll never hurt you again."

Renji snorted. "Do you realize how pathetic you sound?"

"Yes, but I don't care," Shuuhei replied at once, his voice broken yet determined at the same time. He stepped closer. "I love you, Ren, you know that."

Renji's chest constricted at the simple statement, and his fingers tightened their grip on the door frame; he hadn't heard that for a long time, and he wasn't prepared for how much it shook him to hear Shuuhei say that again.

The redhead's moment of hesitation didn't escape Shuuhei's attention, and he latched onto that immediately. "I really do love you, I never stopped loving you."

Renji blinked and said stiffly, "But I don't love you anymore." And then he stood there at the door frame and watched Shuuhei's face fall.

"I don't believe you," Shuuhei whispered, sounding genuinely hurt. "It's only been six months."

"You fucking _cheated_ on me. I think that justifies my change of heart?" Renji said sarcastically, almost laughing in disbelief at Shuuhei's shock.

For a moment, Shuuhei looked like a deflated balloon, and then the next thing Renji knew, he was suddenly stumbling backwards into his living room, nearly knocked over by a strong shove.

"Hey!" he yelled indignantly as Shuuhei stepped across the threshold of the front door. The boy's chest was heaving, his breathing ragged, his face flushed.

"I don't believe you," Shuuhei repeated flatly.

Renji scowled and straightened up. "I don't remember inviting you inside," he said, stepping forward, his hands poised to push Shuuhei out the door if it came to that. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Shuuhei stopped in his tracks, but showed no sign of leaving. Renji let out an annoyed grunt and grabbed the front of his ex-boyfriend's shirt. "Get out," he said as calmly as he could, and pushed Shuuhei towards the door. His eyes widened when Shuuhei's hand shot up to wrap around his wrist.

"Prove it to me," was the last thing Renji heard before he was suddenly yanked forward. He felt a hand close around his waist and didn't even have time to react before his mouth was claimed roughly.

 _Un-fucking-believable._ Even in his shocked state, somehow Renji's mind managed to process that this was the _second_ time he was forcibly kissed within a week, and then he felt a brush of a wet tongue on his lips, and to his horror, his brain began to shut down under the assault of the unique, familiar taste of the man he had once loved so fiercely.

He felt his lower lip being tugged between Shuuhei's parted lips, and then there was another firm brush of tongue against lips and Shuuhei was suddenly inside his mouth, licking and sucking on his lips like he used to do. The sense of familiarity that washed over him hit him like a tidal wave, and he felt his defenses begin to crack. His shock gave way to ripple of arousal through his limbs, and he couldn't help but moan against Shuuhei's lips.

"I love you," Shuuhei murmured into the kiss, and then both of his hands went to Renji's hips. "I love you, Ren, I love you. Please come back."

* * *

Ichigo leaned his cheek on his knuckles as he stared blankly at the opened notebook laid out in front of him. He had read and re-read the questions for goodness-knows-how-many times, yet he still had no idea what the words meant, much less how to solve the problem. His head was filled with thoughts of Renji and the boy with the scarred face.

He didn't like the idea, but he thought he knew who Shuuhei was — the way the boy looked at Renji and the way Renji reacted were not hard to decipher; Ichigo just didn't want to think about it. Someone up there must not like him very much to send Renji's former lover here _right now_ , right when Ichigo had a chance with the redhead.

Ever since Shuuhei showed up, Renji had shown no indication of wanting to continue their interrupted conversation, and Ichigo didn't feel like bringing it up during such an awkward time. It was beyond painful; Ichigo was so tempted to just say "fuck it" and plow forward, but he didn't want to ruin things before it even started. He had finally accepted that he had feelings for his red-haired neighbor, and the thought of someone else with the same feelings — with a history, no less — pursuing Renji at the same time unnerved him, especially someone as hot as Shuuhei.

Ichigo recognized attractiveness when he saw it, and to say that Shuuhei was attractive was an understatement. Even with the horrendous scars, the boy was handsome; he carried the rugged bad-boy look well, it wasn't forced and didn't look stupid. If Ichigo was completely honest with himself, he actually thought that Shuuhei and Renji looked perfect together.

The only thing that made him feel better was the fact that Renji was pushing the guy away.

* * *

**To be continued...**

 


	8. Chapter 8

Renji stumbled backwards until the back of his thighs collided into the side of the dining table, but the contact barely registered. His blood was on fire, his mind dizzy with arousal even as warning bells were going off in his ears. Those familiar hands were _everywhere_ — clawing up and down his back, stroking his toned torso, cupping his butt, and it all felt so good. Shuuhei hadn't gotten rusty at all; he remembered every sensitive spot on Renji's body, and he tackled them with a passion and urgency that had the redhead panting despite himself.

Shuuhei had stopped talking; the only sounds in the house were the rapid breathing coming from the two teenagers, harsh and loud, and the occasional moans that escaped their lips.

A gentle nudge between the knees drew a low groan from the back of Renji's throat, and he shifted slightly. Shuuhei immediately wrestled his hips through the space and his hands trailed slowly from Renji's face down to his thighs, savoring the heated skin still hidden beneath a layer of clothes. The cumbersome turtleneck collar on Renji's shirt got in his way, and, with a growl, Shuuhei slid his hands under the garment and began to tug it upwards, revealing inch after inch of tanned, tattooed skin.

And Renji let him; his mind screamed no loudly but his body screamed yes even louder. _Just this once, just let me enjoy this one last time_ , he told himself amidst a wave of shame that made his cheeks flush a deeper red. Shuuhei had hurt him, yes, and he would never forgive him, but _god_ how he had missed this — right now, in his internal war between his lust and pride, lust was winning, and he was becoming too far gone to care.

"Room," Shuuhei breathed huskily as he licked the shell of Renji's ear, the pad of his thumbs slowly circling and caressing the redhead's nipples. The touches sent jolts of pleasure that wrung whispered groans from his ex-boyfriend — who seemed increasingly willing to take him back now, at least physically. Shuuhei's heart hammered in his chest. He was desperate; desperate for the love that he had allowed to shatter due to a serious slip of judgement, desperate for the affection that he had gotten so accustomed to over the years. He would do anything to get that back, even stooping down to seducing the redhead with sex.

Any remaining thoughts of how _wrong_ this was receding into the farthest corner of his mind, Renji led Shuuhei, walking clumsily and noisily, upstairs to his bedroom where he could drown in the delicious promise of pleasure in the privacy of his own space.

The door swung open and crashed into the wall with a loud thud, and they made their way in a tangle of limbs and hastily shed clothes towards Renji's bed. But before that, Shuuhei paused to press Renji's back against the closet door and used the position to grind their hips together, creating waves and waves of friction that made both of them gasp.

"Fuck," Renji groaned and frowned as he strained within the confines of his jeans. Almost drunkenly, he fumbled with the buckle and zipper, nearly nicking himself in the process.

Shuuhei shivered at the deep voice that he'd thought that he would never hear again. Pulling away to make space for himself, he yanked his own pants down to his thighs, and as soon as he saw Renji's jeans slide down, he pressed his hips against the redhead's and immediately hissed at the contact between their hot skin.

"Oh god, I've missed this," Shuuhei murmured.

Renji arched his back in surprise and allowed a soft, choked cry escape from his mouth. His hands found their way to Shuuhei's waist and he tightened his grip, holding the man in place as he let the current of pleasure ripple through his body. Before he could recover his breath, he groaned again as Shuuhei's hand wrapped around him and began to stroke, trapping both of them together in his fist. Renji's fingernails dug painfully into Shuuhei's skin through the fabric of his shirt, and his breath came out raspy and fast; he felt light-headed looking down at the sight, his hair coming down from his pony tail and covering his eyes. He tried to blow the strands away from his face, but they stubbornly stuck to his sweaty skin, so he lifted his head reluctantly to shake them off.

As he did so, his eyes inevitably went to the window in front of him. His vision was partially blocked by Shuuhei's head, but there was no mistaking the pale face peeking from between the slightly drawn shades in the room next door.

* * *

Ichigo was certain that his heart had stopped beating. He stared, unblinking, at the unexpected and devastating sight through the window. All he'd wanted to do was to let some fresh air into his room, he never thought he'd have his hopes crushed like that.

What happened to _leave me the fuck alone_?

He felt betrayed, even though he knew it was silly to feel that way. It wasn't like he was in a relationship with the guy or anything; hell, they hadn't discussed what happened between them the other day, so Ichigo didn't even know how Renji truly felt about the incident. But he knew now. The scene displayed so crudely in front of him now was clear enough. Obviously, whatever he felt was one-sided. His hopes were nothing but wishful thinking.

He hardly noticed Shuuhei's bare ass even though it was _right there_ , the only thing that registered in his mind was that Renji was making out with the person that he was seemingly pushing away. Ichigo didn't know if this meant Renji had been putting up a show in front of him, or if something had happened in his absence that made the redhead change his mind.

It felt as thought he had been staring at the half-naked boys forever, but in reality it couldn't have been more than five seconds. Still holding his breath, Ichigo yanked his curtains closed with more force than necessary and fled to his bathroom with the hope that some cold water in his face would restart his heart.

He'd left the window in such a hurry that he didn't see the redhead freeze in the other room.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Shuuhei asked thickly.

Renji had suddenly stopped moving, his entire body stiffened as though someone had hit a stop button. And then just as suddenly, Renji pushed Shuuhei away from him, causing Shuuhei to cry out in surprise.

"Ichigo," Renji croaked. He pulled his jeans up and tucked himself inside with shaking hands. He didn't know why, but he felt panicked, as though he had been caught cheating. It didn't make any sense, he wasn't _with_ Ichigo, but when he realized that the boy had seen him, it was as if somebody had splashed a bucket of cold water in his face. All traces of urgency and need vanished, and he was suddenly aware that he was standing in his room with his ex-boyfriend, who was holding himself in his fist and looking very confused.

"What?" The bewilderment in Shuuhei's voice would've been comical, but now it just served as a wakeup call. Shame and horror hit Renji right in the gut and he groaned in dismay.

_What the hell was he thinking?_

"Get out, get out!" Renji grabbed Shuuhei by his shirt sleeve and shoved the man towards the door. He felt dirty all over; he couldn't believe he had allowed things to get so out of hand.

Shuuhei continued to stare at him in confusion, not understanding the abrupt change of behavior on Renji's part. He thought he heard the redhead mention strawberries, but he was sure that he was mistaken. Who the hell thinks of _strawberries_ , of all things, while making out? He must have done something wrong, or said something — although he couldn't imagine what — that somehow triggered Renji's memory of what he'd done.

"Ren, what's going on?" Shuuhei asked again, buckling his pants hurriedly while he walked awkwardly down the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet when Renji gave him another push between his shoulder blades.

Renji let out a miserable grunt and mumbled, "This is a mistake."

Shuuhei's heart sank.

Renji tried to gather up some anger to fling at the dark-haired teen, but failed when he caught the distraught expression on Shuuhei's face. This had been his fault; he had let his guard down and led Shuuhei on. Shuuhei shouldn't have started it, but he shouldn't have allowed it to go on either. How was he supposed to explain this now?

"Ren, I really mean it when I said I want you back," Shuuhei said, thinking that Renji was pushing him away because he doubted his sincerity. "Do you see this tattoo?" He pointed to the "69" on his cheek. "Remember this date? This is how much I love you, Ren. I _need_ you."

Only then did Renji realize what the new tattoo represented. June 9th — their anniversary. "It's not that," he said, feeling flustered at the increasingly muddled situation.

Shuuhei's brows furrowed. "Then what is it? Do you need more time?" he asked. "I'll give you however much time you need. Just…think about it, take your time. I'll wait for you."

Renji felt a stab of frustration as he struggled to arrange his thoughts. He didn't want to be with Shuuhei again, but he'd messed that up and sent the wrong message, and he was distracted by this situation with Ichigo. He knew that Ichigo had seen him and Shuuhei in action, but he wasn't sure if the boy saw that _he_ saw him looking. Either way, he needed to talk to Ichigo. But what could he say? The truth was so lame, so pathetic that he felt sick just thinking about it.

"Look, this was a mistake," Renji said, pinching the bridge of his nose and frowning. Cheater or not, Shuuhei didn't deserve the false hope that Renji had just given him.

"What do you mean?" Shuuhei asked, standing frozen at the bottom of the stairs. The hurt and disappointment in his eyes was clear.

Then, Renji went and said something that drained the blood from Shuuhei's face. "I'm seeing someone else."

* * *

Ichigo couldn't meet Renji's eyes in school. He felt bitter — it wasn't fair that Renji gave him hope and then let him down like this. There _had_ been a spark, no matter how brief it'd been, and Renji had seemed so determined to keep his distance from his former boyfriend, yet he'd gone and done _that_. Ichigo didn't like the idea that Renji was sailing two boats at the same time. He would've appreciated it if the redhead just told it to him straight, he would've at least been prepared.

He didn't know if Renji knew that he knew, and he wasn't about to ask. He didn't know which was worse — if Renji didn't, then it meant he was keeping Ichigo in the dark intentionally and didn't even have the decency to reject him; if Renji did, then why the hell hadn't he offered an explanation?

Worst of all, Ichigo couldn't even justify what he was feeling. _So what_ if Renji decided to get back together with Shuuhei? It wasn't Ichigo's business; Renji was a free man, and it was his right to see whomever he pleased.

Still, Ichigo couldn't help feeling robbed — he _had_ an opportunity, and Shuuhei had come and taken that away. He never had the chance to tell Renji how he felt, to explain why he'd kissed him that day. It grated on his nerves like a splinter under his skin, one that he couldn't find and couldn't extract.

He wished and wished that he'd _never_ looked through that damned window, ever.

* * *

Renji was at a loss for what to do. Ichigo was slipping away — Ichigo, who had never been his in the first place; Ichigo, whom he'd been annoyed at not that long ago for trying to wrestle himself into his life, the only person who expressed any interest in knowing him when he was at the lowest point of his life, who put up with his coldness and never complained.

It was a classic case of not knowing what you had until you lost it, and Renji was feeling the brunt of it now. Oh, what he would give to catch Ichigo peeking at him undressing through the window again, but those curtains had not budged since the day Ichigo saw him with Shuuhei.

At least Shuuhei was no longer bothering him, but that wasn't anything to be happy about either. He would never forget the look that Shuuhei gave him before turning around and running off; he imagined that Shuuhei must've felt a fraction of betrayal that Renji felt when he walked into that room six months ago — the flash of anger and hurt in those normally-warm grey eyes reminded him of it. For a split second, Renji felt like dirt, but then he reminded himself that Shuuhei was the one who cheated on him first, and in a twisted kind of way, that made him feel less guilty. He didn't know if he was sick for feeling that way.

It should've been easy. He could simply walk up to Ichigo and explain everything, but the sad truth was…he didn't have the guts to do it. His pride made the words clung to the insides of his throat like a stuck fish bone, refusing to budge. What was he supposed to say? _Momentary lapse of judgement, he was horny, he was blinded, Shuuhei started it_ …they all sounded like excuses. Lame. Childish. Ichigo would look down on him once he knew, Renji was sure of it.

It was a lose-lose situation every way he looked at it.

So he kept his mouth shut. And as a result, Ichigo slipped further and further away every day, and he could only watch it happen in front of his own eyes with a sense of dread and helplessness.

* * *

It felt strange at first, walking home alone again after having a companion for a while, but Ichigo was getting used to it. They didn't _say_ anything to each other explicitly, but after that day, Ichigo stopped leaving the classroom at the same time as Renji. The redhead didn't do anything to push the matter; he didn't wait for him or ask him about it, so things just settled to how it was now.

Ichigo dragged his feet, not really eager to walk by Renji's house. He knew it was stupid of him, but he couldn't help it. He had a feeling that Renji knew that he knew, and that just made him feel worse. Maybe one day he'd be angry enough to confront the red-haired idiot, but not now. Now, he was too busy nursing his ache. It wasn't an easy task, either; he didn't want his family to know, especially Yuzu, because then they'd just fuss all over him. And Keigo — being the nitwit that he was — kept bugging him about his relationship with Renji, something that he'd picked up ever since the day he overheard their conversation in the classroom.

He looked up as he trudged up the street, breathing heavily through his nose as the street angled uphill slightly. Then, out of nowhere, something hard and solid slammed into his side and sent him crashing into the concrete wall by the road. Coughing and hacking up the dust that had gotten into his mouth, Ichigo picked himself up from the ground. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the buzzing sound that was ringing in his ears; he must have hit his head, and now it was beginning to throb in time with his heartbeat.

_What the hell?_

He must've been hit by a car, or an elephant.

Before he could clear his head, something closed around his neck and he was slammed into the wall again, the uneven ridges on the wall biting painfully into his back even through his shirt.

"Wha —" Ichigo sputtered, his fingers instinctively reaching for the thing that was around his throat. And then he opened his eyes and stared in disbelief. "Shu…" His attacker's name came out broken as he struggled to breathe, but he couldn't, Shuuhei's grip was crushing his windpipe and all he could do was make small choking noises. Just as he thought his eyes were going to roll back into his head, Shuuhei suddenly let go, and Ichigo sagged to his knees, one hand falling palm-down on the ground to support his weight while the other flew to his throat.

Ichigo felt like he was about to cough up his lunch as he lurched forward, and then he suddenly felt blinding pain in his stomach and he fell on his side, his hands automatically wrapping around his bruised body. Gasping loudly, he fought to regain his breath and forced himself to get up. Moving unsteadily, he got on all fours and was about to push himself up from the ground when another kick to his stomach sent him sprawling again.

" _You_ ," Shuuhei spat, his voice laced with hatred that Ichigo didn't understand.

Instead of asking, all Ichigo could do was roll over to his side and cough. His stomach _ached_ like a bitch, and he wondered groggily if he had suffered internal injury. He didn't have the luxury to wonder for long, because Shuuhei walked over and kicked him again, making him roll over to the other side.

"So _you're_ Ichigo," Shuuhei said through his teeth. "And the whole time I was thinking that he suddenly craved _strawberries_." He laughed mirthlessly, the raspy sounds sending chills through Ichigo's limbs.

 _I don't get it_ , Ichigo said in his mind as he looked up at the dark-haired boy who towered over him, then, realizing that Shuuhei wouldn't be able to hear him, he opened his mouth to repeat the sentence, but before he could do that, he was yanked to his feet and shoved roughly against the wall.

Shuuhei's fist curled tightly around the front of Ichigo's shirt, and he pressed Ichigo's back firmly into the concrete. "You stole him from me!"

* * *

**To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

Ichigo heard Shuuhei, he really did, but the guy wasn't making any sense. _He stole who? What?_ His face must've looked as stupid as he felt, because Shuuhei started shaking him and screaming.

"Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about!"

 _But I really don't know what you're talking about_ , Ichigo thought. But he knew better to say that out loud. Plus, he was beginning to get pissed. He didn't appreciate getting jumped like this; he'd already let Shuuhei go far enough without hitting back, the time to be polite had come and gone.

"Get...off me!" Ichigo huffed, bringing his hand around and tugging at the other teen's hand, which was still clutching the front of his shirt in a death grip. When Shuuhei wouldn't budge, Ichigo had no choice but to bend his knee, suck in a deep breath, and lash out with his leg with all the strength he could muster in his awkward position. The dull thud as his foot connected with Shuuhei's ribs and the surprised grunt of pain from the boy sent a shudder of satisfaction through Ichigo's body.

Ichigo straightened up and dusted himself while eyeing Shuuhei apprehensively. The dark-haired teen was clutching his side and glaring at him with murderous intent, clearly looking for an opening to launch himself at Ichigo again. Ichigo felt an adrenaline rush when he caught the challenging glint in the boy's eyes. So he wanted a fight, eh? Ichigo would _give_ him one; he hadn't grown up with a head of strange orange hair for nothing. He'd learned from a young age that kids were not kind to each other, and he'd had his fair share of bullies, which was why he had found Hanatarou so endearing. Still, he wasn't one for pointless fights — and this one was pretty pointless as far as he was concerned. Why the hell was Shuuhei so riled up?

"I don't know what your problem is, but I think we have a misunderstanding," Ichigo gave one more attempt at remaining civilized.

Shuuhei chuckled darkly and shook his head. "Oh, no, I understand things perfectly."

Ichigo sighed in exasperation. Okay, so he wasn't _completely_ clueless, even with a throbbing headache he could still put two and two together, except he didn't understand why it added up to four. If anything, Shuuhei was the one who robbed Ichigo, so why was he turning around and accusing Ichigo of stealing the redhead from him?

"I didn't do what you think I did," Ichigo said, raising his hands up and positioning them in front of his body in a defensive stance. He could see from the tension in Shuuhei's muscles that the boy was coiled like a tightly wound spring, he sure as hell was not going to let himself be manhandled again.

His words only served to bristle the other boy further. Shuuhei drew himself up to his full height and brought his arms up in a similar fashion, and the two of them circled each other, not unlike two fighters in a boxing ring. It was ridiculous.

"You think you're smart, huh, weasling your way between us like that," Shuuhei said, his voice tight and dry. "Ren and I go way back, _Ichigo_ , don't think it's that easy to take him away from me."

Ichigo exhaled through his teeth, fists tightening in frustration. "Look —" he began, and then his eyes widened and he ducked down instinctively to avoid a sudden swing of Shuuhei's arm. Another surprise attack! Ichigo clenched his jaw. This fucker was sneaky!

Shuuhei retracted his arm smoothly, looking pissed that he'd missed. Then, narrowing his eyes, he lashed out again, this time with his leg, aiming for Ichigo's torso. Ichigo dodged the hit with a quick twist of his body and immediately countered with a move of his own — with uncanny accuracy, he caught Shuuhei's leg between his hands and used the boy's own momentum to throw him off-balance. With a yelp of surprise, Shuuhei stumbled and fell, but he quickly got back on his feet, looking even angrier than before.

"I really don't want to fight you," Ichigo said as calmly as he could. Crazy or not, Shuuhei was Renji's ex — and current? — boyfriend, and Ichigo didn't want to get any more tangled in this mess than he already was.

Whether Shuuhei heard him or not, Ichigo would never knew, because it didn't make any difference. With a throaty growl, Shuuhei pounced on Ichigo and started to rain punch after punch, his fists connecting with Ichigo's arms, which he had raised to protect his face. The pain from the punches registered, but the way Shuuhei was belting them out didn't allow him to pack enough strength into them as he probably would've liked, and Ichigo soon saw an opening. Taking a deep breath, Ichigo took the risk and removed his right hand from his face and hit the teen right in the chest.

Shuuhei's breath escaped him with an audible whoosh and he stumbled backwards with a frustrated cry. The indignation of it all welled up in Ichigo's chest and he plowed forward and followed up with a couple more solid, well-placed punches, splitting the other teen's lips and snapping his head to the side. Almost immediately, Ichigo felt guilty and stepped away.

It was clear that Shuuhei wouldn't be able to overpower his opponent barehanded, and the boy knew it. The realization was a blow to his pride, and the next thing Ichigo knew, there was a glint of metal in the sunlight, and he was suddenly slammed bodily into the wall again.

Except this time, there was a stinging pain as something cold and sharp was pressed against the tender skin on his throat.

"Stay away from Ren," Shuuhei hissed in Ichigo's face, standing so close that Ichigo could feel his breath. And it was only then did Ichigo notice the guy's reddened eyes and dilated pupils, not to mention the tang of alcohol from Shuuhei's mouth.

Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, but his voice turned into a pained grunt when the pressure against his skin increased. It could just be his overactive imagination, but he swore he felt something wet and warm slide down his neck. For the first time in his life, Ichigo felt a stab of true fear. This would be a very, very lousy way to check out.

"Heh," Shuuhei suddenly said, and then chuckled. The pressure against Ichigo's neck vanished, and Ichigo was about to sigh out loud in relief when he felt a pinprick of pain on his forehead above his right eyebrow. "How about..." Shuuhei whispered in a mocking voice. "Since you want to replace me, how about I make you look _just_ like me, eh?" Ichigo jumped when the pain increased, but Shuuhei pressed down on his shoulders and kept him still.

Ichigo thought he was going to have a heart attack. He knew what Shuuhei meant, and the image of the boy's three scars flashed in front of his eyes. "No..." Ichigo whispered in horror, eyes sliding closed on their own accord. He didn't even know that Shuuhei had a weapon with him; he'd been too distracted by the absurd accusation. He would've been more careful if he'd known.

There was a loud crack, then the pressure against his forehead was suddenly gone. He opened his eyes in stunned silence and saw Shuuhei standing in front of him with his face turned to his side, mouth hanging open in disbelief and shock. Then, Ichigo's eyes fell on a black, wicked-looking weapon on the ground a couple of feet away from them. The handle was long, and it ended with a sleek, scythe-like blade that shone brightly under the sun. Wrapped tightly around the handle just below the blade was several coils of dark-colored rope. Ichigo lifted his head to follow the rope, which extended from the handle right up to...

 _Renji_.

The redhead held the handle of the whip in his right hand, his eyes narrowed into slits, yet Ichigo could feel the death glare emanating from them like a physical force.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Renji's voice was ice cold and dripping with quiet fury. Ichigo shuddered involuntarily; somehow the calmness from the redhead right now felt even more dangerous than a screaming fit would.

Shuuhei continued to stare at his former lover, and then his lips curled up in a eerie grin. "Here to save your little bitch, Ren?"

Ichigo felt his own anger rise, but before he could say anything, Renji interrupted, "I'm disappointed in you, Hisagi Shuuhei. You're no longer the man I knew," he said slowly. "The Shuuhei I knew was generous, kind, _level-headed_. What the fuck have you become?"

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by what sounded like a choked sob, and then shit hit the fan.

Ichigo didn't know what triggered his reflexes — it could've been the almost-panicked yell from Renji, or it could be the sudden darkening of Shuuhei's eyes that set off his own internal alarms — but he suddenly got an ominous feeling and began backpedaling. There was the dreaded sounds of metal against gravel, and then Ichigo felt the air leave his lungs as his back collided into the solid concrete wall.

He had nowhere else to go, and the scythe was no longer on the ground.

* * *

Renji saw everything in slow motion. Shuuhei looked at him as if he wanted to burn a hole in his skull, his scythe lying on the ground between them. Renji remembered how they had taken up self defense classes in middle school. Their teacher was an unconventional fellow — Urahara-sensei didn't believe in the usual fist and leg approach, and the usual stuff like nunchucks and swords were too "boring" for him and his "brilliant students". Instead, he had asked Renji and Shuuhei to select something unique each; the more difficult it was to master, the better.

Shuuhei had named his Kazeshini, inspired by the way the blades form deadly ripples in the air when he swings them. Compared to Renji, Shuuhei found it especially hard to use his weapon of choice, because it was Renji who had talked him into picking it. Shuuhei had complained that it was too dangerous, the blade too unforgiving, too sharp, but he had grudgingly relented in the end because he couldn't stand the idea of Renji laughing at him for being a chicken.

But, back to the present.

Renji saw those grey eyes dart to the scythe on the ground, and he immediately knew something bad was going to happen. He didn't have the luxury to think whether it would be aimed at him or Ichigo, but even the most remote possibility that it could be Ichigo sent his pulse racing, and before he knew it, he was yelling at the top of his lungs for Ichigo to run.

He tightened his grasp on the handle of his whip, but it was yanked bodily out of his hand, and then he saw, in agonizing slow motion, the deadly blade swing in Ichigo's direction. To his horror, the orange-haired teen had his back pressed against the wall with nowhere to go.

Renji didn't think before he moved, all he knew was that Ichigo was going to die, and he couldn't let that happen.

* * *

Ichigo didn't close his eyes. He didn't see his memories flash by like novels usually describe the moment right before death. The only thing that came to mind was a stupid "oh", and then he just stared numbly at the crazed expression on Shuuhei's face.

He thought it wasn't possible for him to go any nearer to the wall than he already was without blowing a hole through it, but something slammed into his body, nearly jarring his lungs through his chest. He tumbled, limbs flailing, to the side. Shocked, he turned around to see what it was that knocked him away. Blood immediately roared in his ears even as he felt himself turn cold.

Shuuhei was falling onto his knees with a strangled cry. His scythe slid from his hand and landed with a loud clang on the ground, and then he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around the fallen form in front of him. Ichigo stood frozen on the spot as he struggled to process the scene. Renji lay on the ground, propped up on one elbow, coughing and clutching his stomach with bright crimson liquid seeping through his fingers.

Then, as though someone snapped their fingers in front of Ichigo's face, he shot forward before skidding to a stop next to the redhead and, like Shuuhei, fell to his knees. He was so mortified that it didn't even occur to him to scream at Shuuhei, but he did reach out with a trembling hand to grab a fistful of Renji's shirt. "No," he whispered softly.

Renji peered at him through a frown and croaked, "A-ambulance?"

How ironic.

Ichigo fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. His pleas over the phone were frantic and almost unintelligible, but he finally did get the message across.

Now, it was just a matter of waiting for help.

Shuuhei was pale and sweating, his hands trembling as he squatted next to Renji's head, looking completely different from his feisty self not five minutes ago. He kept murmuring apologies in a hoarse, broken voice, and didn't stop until Renji rested a hand on his.

"Idiot," Renji said, and then winced. He prodded his wound gingerly. It was bleeding a lot, and judging from the degree of pain he could've sworn that he had been sliced in half, but it wasn't so bad that his guts were at risk of spilling out of his stomach. Shuuhei didn't go all out after all, his intent was to hurt, not kill, and for that Renji was thankful. Still, he was glad that it was him lying on the ground and not Ichigo, although, from the way Ichigo was currently looking at him, the carrot-top was clearly having the complete opposite thought.

"But...I don't get it," Ichigo said, looking from Renji to Shuuhei and then back again.

And that was how the whole story came out. Haltingly, face flushed with shame and regret, Shuuhei related their history; how he had caved when a younger student he'd been mentoring approached him, and how Renji had witnessed it. When it came to the part where Renji told Shuuhei that he was seeing someone else, Ichigo became speechless.

Renji gave him a long look through tired, half-lidded eyes and mumbled, "We g-gotta…t-talk...later." His lips were getting paler by the minute from blood loss, and Ichigo began to fret over the late arrival of the ambulance.

Then, right on cue, it arrived.

* * *

The monitor beeped softly in the background, the sound almost completely dwarfed by the rumbling snores coming from the redhead currently in deep sleep after surgery. Renji's dark-haired step-father sat next to the bed, looking at the unconscious boy, his thick eyebrows pulled together in a concerned frown.

Shuuhei and Ichigo stood outside of the room, looking inside through the glass of the wide window that stretched across one side of the hospital ward. Both had bandages around their arms, having donated their blood for Renji.

Shuuhei had calmed down significantly during the ride in the wailing ambulance, and he had been fully prepared to be handed over to the police for assaulting Renji, but Tessai had quietly told him that the decision whether to press charges or not lay in Renji's hands. And since Renji was currently out of commission, all Shuuhei could do was wait.

"I don't suppose...saying sorry...would cut it," Shuuhei said softly, turning around slowly to face Ichigo.

Ichigo stared at him for a few seconds, then his eyes softened. "You'd have to ask him, not me." His eyes went to the healing cut on Shuuhei's lower lip, courtesy to his fist earlier. He wanted to be angry at the guy, but found that he couldn't, because now that he knew that Renji cared, everything else seemed...trivial.

Shuuhei sighed. "I'm so stupid," he said, sounding like he was talking around a lump in his throat.

"We all make mistakes," Ichigo mumbled.

There was a long stretch of silence before Shuuhei said, "I'm glad that he has you."

Ichigo swallowed. He was glad, too, but he was also sad for Shuuhei. He could tell that the boy still cared deeply for his former boyfriend, but it was impossible to turn things around now.

Shuuhei peered at the sleeping redhead once more, and then whispered, "I should go. Tell him I said bye, okay?"

Ichigo nodded. The dark-haired teen gave him a small smile, and then walked away slowly.

* * *

**One month later**

Ichigo traced the still-tender skin on his boyfriend's torso, following the lines of the intricate tattoos on his body, wringing a soft hiss from the redhead beneath him. The cut was healing well, but it had been deep and long enough that Renji was still forbidden to do any strenuous activities.

At least, that was what he told Ichigo anyway, and what he had been using to talk Ichigo into doing all the work while he lay on his back grinning from ear to ear.

Ichigo straddled Renji's thighs and leaned down to nuzzle the redhead's neck, earning him a small moan in return. Ichigo ran his hands up and down the sides of the muscular body below him, carefully avoiding any pressure around the area of the injury, and slowly teased the redhead, kneading and caressing all the sensitive parts that he had discovered over the past few weeks.

Renji had one hand below his head while the other cupped Ichigo's butt, savoring the way the muscles flexed every time Ichigo moved around. His fingers were slick from assisting Ichigo with the prep work, and now he waited eagerly, his breathing harsh and rapid, for Ichigo to ease himself slowly onto him. A drawn-out groan escaped from between his teeth as he felt himself engulfed in that tight, velvety heat, and he had to force himself to lay still. If it were up to him, he would be thrusting up with all the strength he could muster, except that would probably send him back to the hospital for re-stitching.

Now, wouldn't that be difficult to explain?

It had taken a lot of coaxing and soothing before Ichigo got Renji to go completely bare in front of him. Even after everything that had happened, Renji still felt uncomfortable with his tattoos, but it was gradually getting better. Ichigo understood that it would take a while, and he would be there with him all the way. At least Renji had discarded his turtlenecks and begun to wear normal clothes to school; the reactions he got hadn't been as dramatic as he'd expected. People were actually more curious than horrified or disgusted.

At the moment, though, feeling shy about his tattoos was the last thing on the redhead's mind. His eyes slid shut on their own as Ichigo pushed down again, whispering Renji's name softly as he did so.

As Ichigo's hips began to rock faster, Renji cracked his eyes open to gape at the lean, sculpted body moving on top of him. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago, he had considered this very person a nuisance. Now, he couldn't imagine not having him by his side. Ichigo had helped him learn to let go of his past, convinced him that it was okay to accept that his past, no matter how ugly or painful it was, was part of the lessons in life, and that he should embrace it and focus on moving forward.

A particularly well-placed roll of Ichigo's hips sent Renji's back arching off the bed, and he gasped in a mixture of pleasure and pain from his protesting skin, and then, laughing and panting, Ichigo pinned him down to the mattress by his hips.

"Don't move around so much, idiot," Ichigo murmured with a roll of his eyes while his lips curled up in a smirk. "I know I'm really good, but seriously… _oww!_ " His protest dissolved into laughter when Renji smacked him on the butt for being a smart-ass.

And then their laughter turned into low moans as Ichigo picked up his pace, sending their blood pressures up to the sky. Renji's toes curled and he grasped the sheets as he felt the tension build deep in his gut. From the sounds tumbling from Ichigo's lips, he wasn't going to last much longer either. Renji bit his lip, and, against his doctor's orders, thrust his hips upwards and pushed them both over the edge. The burst of pleasure made him cry out — he heard Ichigo croak his name again — and then he slumped down onto the mattress, exhausted.

Ichigo sagged forward and supported himself on the palms of his hands and inspected Renji's stitches — still intact. "You're such an idiot!" He swatted the side of Renji's head, making the boy yelp in protest. Ichigo scowled down at the grinning redhead and then burst out laughing before leaning down and pressing their foreheads together.

"You think someone's gonna walk into your room one day and see us?" Renji asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Like your sister cleaning your room or something?"

Ichigo's eyes flicked to the window that provided a good view of Renji's bed and stuck out his tongue.

"Oh, right," Renji drawled with a smirk. "I forgot…you're the only pervert who peeps at people through your — _owww!"_

**~END~**


End file.
